To Every Story
by lonelywaldorf
Summary: Two deaths have changed the dynamics of the camp. Struggling with their emotions and trying to gain the trust of the Alexander Community, the cracks are beginning to show. Trying to run along side Two Sides!
1. Struggle

**...to every story.**

**Daryl**

"Daryl?" He jerked awake, panting, sitting bolt up in bed. He looked around, panicking, sweating. A hand rubbed his back and she sat up next to him, a mixture of concern and amusement on her face. "What the hell is wrong with you? You kicked me. LOTS!" He stared at her for a moment, taking her in, and then grabbed her in a hug.

"Jus a dream," he blurted out. It was just a dream. She was here with him, she was alive, she was fine.

Except...

Since when had she agreed that it was ok for her to stay over? She was so mindful of Sophie and Harry. The furthest they had ever gone was making out on the couch. He held her at arms length and stared in horror at the blood seeping out from her stomach.

"Daryl?" She looked at him, puzzled. How could she not feel the blood? Could she not see? She put her hand down onto the bed, into the pool of blood, her blood. He didn't know what to do, his mind was blank. She was looking at him, reaching out her blood covered hand to touch his cheek. She was still alive, if he could think what to do she would be ok. But there was just so much blood. He blinked, trying to clear his head.

He opened his eyes and she was gone. He was in his house in Alexandria. He was on the couch.

Georgie was dead.

He cast a bleary eye over the small front room of the house he'd been given. Better clear all the bottles up before Andrea came over. She had been on his case ever since they had gotten to Alexandria. What a stupid name for a place. If she came over and saw he'd been drinking again...well she'd go on another day long rant. He stood, swaying slightly, and made an effort to collect the bottles. Throwing them into the trash, he turned on the faucet in the kitchen and filled the sink full of cold water. Taking a deep breath, he plunged his head into the water, in an attempt to clear his mind and wake himself up.

Pulling his head out of the sink, he leant over the counter and stared blankly ahead. For a moment, he was confused as to why he couldn't hear Matthew and Harry upstairs, then he remembered that they were with Andrea and Dale now. He'd sent them there. And he was here alone. He shook his head like a wet dog, and made his way to the bedroom. He was still wearing the clothes from yesterday, and if he wanted people to leave him alone, he had to look like he was ok. Like he was getting up and functioning like a regular person.

Not the truth. Not that every waking moment, he was plagued with guilt-guilt that she had died, guilt that it was Merle that did it, guilt that he hadn't been able to protect anyone he cared about. That he had practically kicked the boys out because of fear-fear that he wasn't capable to look after them. That he had to drink himself to the point of passing out every night to get any sleep. To avoid the dreams.

They had started as soon as they left the town. They varied between memories of her, real memories of things that had happened, to dreams where she had never been hurt, and she was still there, to dreams where she sat screaming at him, hating him, blaming him. He didn't know which ones were worse. Where he knew he was dreaming, and he wanted to wake up before the pain started, or when he didn't know, and for a moment, he was happy again.

He pulled off his vest and rummaged in the drawers. He didn't know who had lived in the house before him, but they had owned some fucking awful shirts, covered in stripes and flowers. He finally settled on a white shirt and pulled it on, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. He wondered briefly about breakfast, whether to drain another glass of whiskey, and decided against it. No point giving Andrea any chance to pick up on anything. He made his way down the stairs, grabbing his crossbow and arrows. Standing in front of the door, he steeled himself for another day of disapproving and pitying looks.

"Fuck em," he muttered to himself. "Fuck em all. Don't need em, don't care about em."

Didn't matter how many times he said it, he still couldn't make it true.


	2. Murderer

**I'm trying to work through some reactions to Georgie's 'death', but I promise I'll try to incorporate descriptions of the town so you don't get bored. xoxo**

**Sophie**

There he was. Sophie peered out of the window at Daryl stumbling down the street. She shrank back from the window, afraid he would see her. She held her breath as T-Dog and Andrea ran down the street after him. What was going on? She watched them, talk for a while and then walk to the edge of town. She let out a sigh of relief. At least he hadn't come to find her. Not yet. She spun around on the chair and stared into the room. Glenn and Maggie were still asleep upstairs. She didn't know if she should wake them up or not. Everyone kept giving her strange sad looks. She knew why. Her mom had died. And then Georgie had died. She brought her knees to her chin and hugged her legs.

She missed them both. She had tried really hard not to think about her mom dying. She had even pretended Georgie was her mom, so that she could act like nothing had happened. And it had kind of worked for a while. She'd had Georgie almost all to herself. She had looked after her, taught her how to shoot. It had been almost just as good as when her real mom had been alive. Of course she sometimes had bad dreams and woke up crying, but Georgie had been there always, stroking her hair, rocking her to sleep. By the time they had gotten to the houses, the bad dreams were all but gone. Living in a real house, with Georgie being her mum, Sophie had been able to pretend nothing bad had happened.

She hadn't really noticed when Daryl kept coming over to the house. He and Georgie had always been friends. He had been nicer to her then before, but she had assumed that was because her mom was dead and he had to be nicer.

Then one day, before all the bad things had started to happen, like not being allowed to go outside the walls, she had been sat on the kitchen counter drinking juice, whilst Georgie was chopping up a rabbit that she and Daryl had caught in the woods. She was suppose to be watching how to do it, but it made her feel ill, so she hadn't been paying much attention. Daryl was sat on the sofa in the sitting room, drinking a beer. Sophie hadn't approved of this at all. Daryl had his own beer in his own house, so in her opinion, he should stay there, and quit bugging Georgie all the time. Suddenly Georgie had swore and jumped back from the rabbit. She had cut her finger, and there was a LOT of blood. Sophie had immediately jumped from the counter and started to look in the cupboard for a clean dish cloth. She knew how to treat some little injuries after being around Adele and Georgie.

"Lemmie look." Dumb Daryl had started to stick his nose in. As if he knew anything about treating injuries. He never helped Ben in the medical room, not like Georgie. But when Sophie had turned around with the dish cloth, he'd had Georgie's hand in his and was examining the cut intently. Even stranger, he'd been holding her hand as if it was going to break, all gentle and delicate. Sophie remembered how irritated she'd felt. There was quite a lot of blood and it was getting on the floor she pointed out. So Daryl had ignored her dish cloth and guided Georgie to the sink to wash the cut, then somehow produced a band aid from one of the cupboards. Sophie remembered thinking Georgie had put up with all this exceptionally well, considering how much of a moron Dumb Daryl was being. She'd left the kitchen in disgust, wondering if she could find a book to read until he left.

"Shouldn't be too bad," she'd heard Daryl mutter. "S'not deep. Jus' don pick it or nothin'. I mean, i know ya'll wanna, but jus' don't."

"You know, I think I had the whole put-plaster-on-cut-finger thing covered." Georgie hadn't sounded angry, or irritated like Sophie had expected. She'd hidden outside the door, to see if Georgie was going to tell him off.

"Yeah, well, ya took so long ta even move towards the sink, I thought I should step in. Look after ya." Daryl had sounded like he was trying to be cool or something, but he just sounded mumbly and embarrassed. Sophie wondered if Georgie would hit him. She didn't need to be looked after by anyone and she would probably tell Daryl that very clearly. Which is why she hadn't understood Georgie's response.

"Being looked after for once sounds nice. Then again, you're the one that got yourself set on fire, scaring me to death in the process. Sure you don't need me to look after you?"

Sophie hadn't been able to contain her curiosity; she'd peeked around the door frame. What she saw both confused and horrified her.

Georgie had her arms around Daryl's neck-which looked very dirty- and he had his arms wrapped around her waist and they were KISSING.

Sophie had run to her room, and hidden herself under her covers. Her head was swimming with horrid images: Georgie and Daryl getting married, having to call Daryl dad, Georgie having a baby, which resembled a bald mini Daryl. She suddenly realised that if for some inexplicable reason Georgie did (heaven forbid) _love_ Daryl, she wouldn't have her to herself. She'd have to share her with Daryl. Georgie might even love Daryl more than she loved her, and then what would happen? Huddled in her bed, consumed by a fear that she couldn't explain, that couldn't be washed away even when Georgie came to talk to her about how she and Daryl were kind of a couple, but nothing serious and she still loved Sophie first and foremost, Sophie closed her eyes and prayed. She prayed that something would happen and she wouldn't have to share Georgie with anyone-and especially not Dixon.

At first it hadn't worked. If anything Daryl had been over more. He was nice to her, and she tried to be polite, but every time he hugged Georgie, or put his arm around her waist, or on her shoulder, no matter how embarrassed or hesitant he was, Sophie wanted to grab something and swat his hand away. She had prayed harder and harder; she didn't want to share her new mom.

When she had been younger, if she hadn't shared candy or a game with someone, her father had taken it away from her. He use to tell her that if she couldn't share, then she didn't deserve the treat. On the day that Georgie had been stabbed and killed, Sophie had realised that God was a lot like her father. If she couldn't share Georgie, then she couldn't have her.

And that was one of the reasons why she was hiding from Daryl. She'd killed Georgie.


	3. Consumed

**Adele**

"You ok there?"

Adele blinked and slowly came back to reality. It took her a moment to focus on the face in front of her. Craig was looking at her, the usual mix of concern and uncertainty painted onto his scarred face. Adele nodded. She was ok enough, given that she'd lost her boyfriend and best friend in the space of two days. She'd spent the first three days after their deaths barely conscious. Well, she'd been awake, but her awareness of what was happening around her and been limited. The only thing she was really sure of was that Craig had never left her side.

When she had started to emerge from her cocoon of pain and mourning, his was the first face she had been able to focus on. When she'd been unable to think of anything but the last time she saw Bens face, or the last words she'd said to Georgie, Craig had always been able to think of something to bring her back to the present, or give her a job to keep her mind off her pain. He'd tried to treat her as if nothing had happened, not as if she needed to be wrapped in cotton wool. And when she'd woken crying and whimpering in the night, he'd come to her room and sat on the bed next to her, holding her hand until she fell back to sleep. It had been a logical step to move into a house with him when they reached Alexandria.

She placed her head in her hands and sighed deeply. She didn't know how to tell Craig what she'd been thinking. He looked at her a few more moments and then looked out onto the street, where T-Dog and Andrea were trying to reason with an incoherent Daryl Dixon. He shook his head at her.

"No point going down that road. You can blame your man there all you want, but he didn't have any control over his brother. You know that."

She kind of did. But she still wanted to blame someone. Merle was dead, apparently shot by Morgan. She wasn't sure she believed that. She would find out when she was more able to think clearly, but something about Morgan's face when he had confessed to Daryl hadn't sat right. That left only Daryl who could be held responsible. It was his brother, and if he hadn't taken up with Georgie, Merle wouldn't have had some crazy fit of jealousy and stabbed her best friend. Then the commotion wouldn't have drawn the walkers and Ben wouldn't have died. It had all started with Daryl, who didn't even have the decency to mourn her friend properly, just get drunk and pick fights with the locals. Last she'd heard from T-Dog, he wouldn't even acknowledge Georgie had ever existed. She might have been able to forgive him, if she hadn't known that.

"He should have just left her alone, kept his hands off her." She was surprised at the venom in her voice. It was the most animated she'd sounded for a long time. Craig grabbed her and shook her.

"Don't do this. Don't become eaten up with hate. You can't live like that." Adele looked at him. "Don't think Georgie or Ben would want you to be like this. You and I know this isn't what they want." His words left Adele cold.

"We don't know what they want because they're dead and a Dixon killed them. So a Dixons got to pay." Craig pulled away, his face unreadable. Adele stood up and strode back up to her room. She had lost the two most central people in her new, shitty, end of the world life. The two people who kept her going and until Daryl felt the same way she did, she couldn't rest. She scrabbled around in her backpack-she still hadn't unpacked-until she found one of the only two pictures of Georgie she had. Somehow, she'd managed to hold on to them, even when they'd fled the prison. The pair of them had looked at them when they wanted to remember good times, even if they were painful to remember. She examined them both carefully.

In one picture, the pair were at Ellis Island museum. The photo had been taken by a New Zealand boy that had worked at the camp with them. Adele had her hands in the air, and was being 'patted down' by Georgie on her arrival into the US. Georgie's head was flung back and she was laughing insanely-probably at some inappropriate comment she had made at the wrong moment.

The second was more posed. This one had been on New Years Eve, when they'd gone out in Birmingham to celebrate. Her first New Years Eve in England and Georgie had gone all out to make sure she couldn't remember any of it without photos. The photo had made it into her wallet simply because it was the only one from the night where they both looked as pretty as they had thought they had. Adele couldn't help but smile when she thought of the state they had been in the taxi on the way back-they'd been forced to hang their heads out the window like dogs, they were so drunk.

This was the one she selected. She carefully ripped the photo in half, leaving the half with her face on it on the bed. She tore down the stairs and across the street into Daryl's house. The smell of stale alcohol and vomit hit her like a slap in the face. Wrinkling her nose she walked into the living room and placed the photo on the table where Daryl would see it.

"You don't get to forget," she muttered, backing out of the room. "Don't you ever forget it was your fault." As she left the house, she realised that she was close to hating Daryl more than anyone she'd ever met, even the Governor.

But at least she was feeling something other than empty.


	4. Stirrings

**Emma**

"Another drama." Emma muttered to herself. Of course, it was centred around the Dixon man, the one that half the women in the community were swooning over-poor damaged soul that he was. She rolled her eyes. It was men like him that made her happy to be exclusively attracted to women. Not that there was any here for her. She knew that a lot of people here genuinely believed that she just needed to 'find the right man'. She hoped to God they didn't think the right man was Daryl.

She watched him, Andrea and T-Dog wonder down the street. She wondered why they bothered-if he was so determined to go off and kill himself, then why waste their energy stopping him. Especially when T-Dog had Miao to look after. Which reminded her.

She took the key from around her neck and went to the back room. In her past life, the good life, she'd been a nutritionist to the top athletes in the country. Even though her specialism had been sports nutrition, she knew enough from her studies to keep check on Miao. Mostly, she was concerned with getting her weight up, putting a decent layer of fat on her, but she was also supplying her with a good amount of supplements scavenged from the city. Measuring out the daily doses of folic acid, vitamin D and C, she placed the pills into the jam jar she kept for deliveries and walked to Miao's.

The door was wide open, but Emma still knocked before she walked in. Miao was stood at the kitchen, drinking a large glass of water. She was very obviously pregnant now, and Emma's guess was she was further along than the four months she had given as a rough estimate. She wished there was at least a midwife in the community, but the best they had for Miao was Julie, a fifty year old woman who had given birth five times. Emma couldn't fathom the thought of giving birth in this world. She had problems dealing with toothache, let alone bringing a 5lb baby into the world. Miao grinned and held out her hand.

"I'm all ready for my drugs." Emma grinned and handed them over.

"When you say it like that, I feel kind of cool. Like the local gangster." Miao laughed.

"Don't say that around T-Dog. He'll tear you apart, can't stand all that gangster nonsense."

"Really?" Emma was intrigued. "He seems like one of the toughest men in your group. I would have thought that came from being all streetwise and such." Miao gulped down the last tablet and sat herself on the couch, indicating that Emma should join her.

"No. He wasn't always so tough. When we first joined up with him, he was more hesitant. Kinder maybe." Emma sat next to Miao and curled her legs up underneath her.

"Kinder or weaker?" Miao just smiled, before carrying on.

"What's the deal with the walls? They don't look very stable." She was referring to the metal sheets propped up by wooden stakes that surrounded the village. Inspected on a daily basis, and maintained by a group organised by Doug. It was almost the only thing Doug was strict about. Emma frowned.

"Well, Doug says that that's the best we can do, given the state of the power grid. Maybe if the electricity worked how it should, if all the houses had power, we could get a cement mixer going, create proper stone walls. But as it stands, that's the best we can do. There's almost no one here that's capable or qualified to think of a way of making a better wall." Miao frowned and Emma felt guilty. Not only had she failed to make Miao feel better, she had probably made her feel worse by highlighting the weakness in their so called safe zone. Miao had seen what a lot of the longer term residents here were ignoring-the walls weren't strong enough. She tried to take Miao's mind off it.

"You've defiantly gained some weight. The tablets have made you look healthier. Be better if we could actually get some people to pull themselves together, grow some vegetables." She shifted her body and looked out of the window. T-Dog was coming back, his face stony. Apparently he had failed at whatever he was trying to achieve.

"Emma? Did you hear me? I said Maggie grew up on a farm, so she could organise something if you wanted to." Miao's voice broke through Emma's thoughts.

"Oh cool. I'll go see her next then." Emma stood up, not wanting to intrude on Miao and T-Dogs time together. But before she could make her swift exit, T-Dog himself walked into the room. As soon as he saw Miao, all traces of irritability washed off his face.

"Hey Emma. Making the drop off?" He grabbed himself a drink of water and joined Miao on the sofa. Emma, hovered at the door. She'd only seen T-Dog in passing and had always thought him to be quite an intimidating character. But seeing him on the sofa, his arm wrapped around Miao, she could see a softer side to him already. He motioned to the chair and she sat down, feeling all of a sudden relaxed. She nodded.

"I was just telling Miao that she would be better off with real fruit and veg, rather than supplements and canned food." T-Dog nodded.

"Maggie use to live on a farm, maybe she could..." Miao punched him lightly on the arm.

"I just told her that." T-Dog laughed and held his hand up in defeat.

"Ok, I didn't know that." He rolled his eyes at Emma, and she found herself smiling. "Why has no one thought to start up a farm now anyway? The way Aaron sold it to us, I thought this place was almost self sustaining." He raised an eyebrow at Emma. "Is there stuff going on behind the scenes we don't know about?" Emma shook her head, feeling worse and worse.

"I don't know...the main purpose of this place seems to be to pretend that the zombies don't exist. So when you bring up the idea of being self sufficient to most people, they kind of just...brush you off. No one wants to think about outside the wall, or what it's like out there. They just want to...play safe. Do you know that out of the sixty people here, only about twenty of them are competent with firearms-and that includes your group. The only reason we've survived so long is because we've been lucky." She stopped, realising that she was confessing things she'd not been able to talk to anyone else in the community about. T-Dog was watching her intently.

"What you're saying, is that the survival of this community isn't due to the work put in by the community, but because of luck." His face was serious. "Seems Rick was right." He looked at Emma. "Look, you seem on the level, more than the others here." Emma didn't argue this. Living in the Alexandria Safe Zone was somewhat akin to being in Pleasantville. It didn't feel real. And for some reason being able to admit that to T-Dog felt good. She felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Rick's been sceptical about this place since we got here. He's been talking about finding weak spots, and watching the patrols. At first I thought he was just paranoid, and then I've had my hands full with...other things. But I have seen things that...concern me. Rick's right. You're right. This place isn't secure."

"So, what do we do?" Emma could feel herself getting carried away with T-Dog, with the idea of doing something.

"Tonight, you and I go over to Ricks and tell him we're in."


	5. Paranoia

**Hey! So, I'm struggling a little with this story, I rewrote this chapter about four times, so I hope this version pleases you!**

**Douglas**

"I still think you made a mistake."

Douglas ignored his wife. He watched as Daryl staggered out of the gates, ignoring whatever Andrea was saying to him. With any luck, this time the drunkard wouldn't come back. He watched Andrea stand at the gates, shouting after him. From the gestures she was making, he could only imagine the obscenities that were coming out of her mouth. He watched as she gave up and made her way back to the house she shared with the old man-what was his name? Dale? He shrugged the thought away, what did he care.

"Douglas?" He couldn't ignore her now. He turned and looked at his wife. She was sat in the chair next to the television. The lamp was working for the moment, and she had a book open in her lap. She looked at him, her face a mix of concern and irritation. He looked at her for a moment, taking her in. Thirty years of marriage and he couldn't think of one thing he liked about her at this point in time. He watched her, waiting for her to start speaking again.

"Those people are dangerous. You don't know anything about them. One of them is practically an alcoholic. You should have never let Aaron bring them back." Douglas shrugged. Annoyingly, Regina was right. But what could he do? Turn away a group of people that had included four children and a pregnant woman? As if she had read his mind, she hurried on.

"I mean, I'm glad that Miao and T-Dog have somewhere safe to stay, and raise their baby. But..." she trailed off. As much as he hated to admit it, Douglas knew that, again, she was right. All the newcomers had a look about them. They were all hardened survivors, even the children. When they had first arrived, he had been unnerved to see Carl, Ricks son, dismantle and clean a rifle with apparently no difficulties at all. Douglas had found himself wondering if he had ever killed anyone.

He'd tried to gain Ricks trust when they'd first arrived. It had taken him a moment to figure out who was in charge: him or T-Dog. The group had looked to both of them for reassurance when they had first arrived, and both had a quality of decisiveness about them that marked them out as leaders. It was only when T-Dog had turned to attend to a pregnant Miao (his girlfriend? Wife?) That he had been able to identify Rick as the man in charge. He'd given him the usual talk: building the town up from scratch, looking for good people like him and his group to run it, their intolerance of cruelty and the rest. All the while, Rick had remained stony faced, unreadable. Occasionally, he scratched the stub of his arm, where his hand should have been, but apart from this movement, he barely moved a muscle. When Douglas had made his point about killing two men in cold blood, by this point slightly exaggerated in an attempt to make any impression, Rick had done nothing but smirked slightly.

Smirked.

That was when Douglas had really started to feel uneasy. What was this man, that killing two living people, living, not the dead, was something to smirk about? What could he have done, that he could react to that news with such...contempt almost. What was he letting into their safe hold?

The rest of the interviews had been worryingly similar. There had been some exceptions-Daryl and Adele, the younger pretty blonde, had barely seemed to take in a word he said. Douglas came to understand later that both had suffered major losses and were most likely still in the process of grieving. Maggie and Miao had both been quiet and grateful to him and he'd played up the role of benevolent leader. Harry and Sophie had been full of questions, as one would expect children to be. Carl had been quieter, possibly trying to emulate what he thought his dad would be like. Meeting Matthew had been...disturbing. It wasn't enough that half his face seemed to have melted, it was his cool detachment from anything that Douglas was saying. The warnings about the rules, the mention of his murders, nothing seemed to make much of an impression on him. A fourteen year old boy. Douglas started to have the uncomfortable feeling that out of all the people who had come to his town, Matthew was the one he needed to watch. He didn't trust him. Hell, he didn't trust any of them.

"I'm going to see what's going on." He walked out of the door, before Regina could complain anymore. Andrea was making her way back to her house, and he quickened his pace to catch up with her. Putting on his most kindly smile, he called out to her.

"Everything ok?" She turned to face him, pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes.

"Oh you know, another day another suicide mission from Daryl." She smiled wanly and slowed her pace to keep time with him. "He's still not grieving properly." Douglas nodded, barely listening. He wasn't interested in the drunk redneck. He wanted to know what Rick was up to. He'd seen him around the town, dressed in the sherrif's uniform they'd given him, smiling at the locals, making conversation. All with that same smirk in his eye. He was up to something, Douglas was sure of it. He listened to Andreas to his ears mindless babbling, making the appropriate noises, waiting for an opportunity to press her for some information.

She was pretty. A little thin perhaps, and her face had that hard quality that all the new comers had. But it wasn't hard to see that she would be a stunner once she had been eating square meals for a while. Dale was a lucky old dog.

Finally, she paused for breath. He seized his moment and jumped in.

"How is everyone else settling in? Well I hope? It's always nice to have new people, and so many of you as well." Andrea nodded.

"It's great." Her hesitation was not lost on Douglas. He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled. "Well, you know, it's hard to get use to being somewhere so normal after camping the way we have. We're all just trying to get use to the idea. Especially the electricity. Well, when it's on." Douglas gave his warmest laugh and she joined in.

"Yes, well, we don't really have anyone here who is an expert in how the solar panels work. It's a pain, but having electricity some of the time than not at all." Andrea nodded in agreement. He moved closer to her and put a comforting hand on her arm. "So what about you and Dale? All settled?" She nodded, seeming not to notice his hand.

"Yeah we're great thanks. It's a bit strange having Matthew and Harry around. I've gone from being a single woman to a mother in a day. And you know, they're good kids, but you can tell they just, they want to go back to Daryl."

"That's only natural." Douglas searched his mind to get the conversation around to Rick. Before he could think of a reasonable path, Rick himself appeared.

"Morning Douglas." That smirk again. Douglas forced himself not to grit his teeth as he waved back.

"Rick-or should I call you Sherriff Grimes now?" Rick smiled.

"Never thought I'd hear that again." He looked at Andrea. "Hey, do you mind watching Carl for a while today? I think Glen and Maggie could do with a rest bite. He and Sophie aren't really interacting with the other kids as well as Matthew and Harry. Maybe they just need that extra support you know?"

"Sure." Andrea moved so quickly away from Douglas, that he could have sworn that some sort of code had passed between them. His eyes flicked from Andrea to Rick and back again.

"Everything ok with you?" He knew better than to expect a straight answer from Rick. As expected, he simply smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, all's well." He looked like he was about to say something else, but then thought better of it. The two stood there in silence for a moment until Rick adjusted his sheriff hat.

"Well, better carry on making the rounds. You didn't appoint me to the post to chat." He moved past Douglas, tipping his hat. Douglas smiled politely at him and watched him walk down the street.

No, he didn't trust him. Not one bit.


	6. A Threat?

**Andrea**

Andrea forced herself to walk at her normal pace. She was pretty sure that Douglas was no longer watching her, but she didn't want to risk giving him the satisfaction of thinking he had freaked her out. Even though he had. You didn't have to be a genius to see that under that gentle smile and friendly manner, there was all sorts of things going on. Inside that man's head, cogs were turning. She'd seen it from the moment he'd shaken her hand, holding on a fraction too long, sizing her up. She wasn't afraid of him, but she was defiantly wary.

Stepping into the house she shared with Dale, Harry and Matthew, she strode to the stairway.

"Boys?" She smiled to herself. Even though she and Dale had agreed that they were only looking after the boys until Daryl had pulled himself together, she couldn't deny that she enjoyed having them here. She leant up the stairs and called again: "Matthew, Harry! You in?" A thumping across the landing gave her an answer. A blonde head peered around the banister.

"Hi Andrea." Matthew smiled and slowly edged further into view, perching at the top of the stairs. Andrea beckoned him down and he slowly descended the stairs, towards Andreas out stretched arm. She wrapped it around his shoulders, and gave him a quick squeeze.

"Is Matt up there?" He shook his head furiously.

"No, he went to the store with Dale, to get some more powdered milk. We drank the last of ours for breakfast." He wiggled closer to her body and hugged her briefly. "Where did you go?" Andrea drew her breath in. Despite her best efforts, Daryl had shown no intention of taking the boys back into his house. She didn't think that sharing this information with Harry would be a great idea, but she couldn't think of a decent story to cover this with. She must have hesitated a little too long, because Harry's face clouded over.

"Oh. Ok." He looked at the floor, his expression unreadable. She felt a sudden surge of rage at Daryl. How could he do this to the boys? How could anyone be so selfish? She put her hand under Harrys chin and gently lifted his face to hers.

"Hey. Don't worry about him. Me and Dale love you ok? We're not going anywhere." Harry nodded dolefully. Andrea suddenly remembered why she'd come to find him.

"Wanna go see Carl and Sophie? Rick wants them to integrate with the town kids more. I thought maybe you and Matt could get them to hang out with some of your friends? Make them more comfortable?" There was a moment of silence, and then Harry nodded.

"Ok," he said in a small voice. "I'll just go get my boots." He wondered through the kitchen out to the back door, where they kept their boots. Andrea sighed, and ran her hand through her hair. She tried to think of a way to protect the boys from getting hurt anymore. She had tried to talk to Daryl, speak sense into him, get him to see that he needed the boys in the house with him, for company, to stop himself from sinking further and further into depression and despair, but frankly, she'd had enough. Now she needed to think of the boys. Hurt and angry, they only partly understood why Daryl had effectively kicked them out. They needed reassurance, and a better explanation than she had given them so far.

"Harry?" She walked to the kitchen, intending to hurry the boy up. "Harry, what's taking you so long?" She stopped as she saw him, stood in the doorway, looking down at something. She stopped, and looked at him.

Something was wrong.

She reached out a hand and placed in on his shoulder. He was tense, his body was almost like a tightly wound spring. She gently pulled him back, moving herself into the doorway, to see what had scared him so much. Looking down at the ground, she let out an involuntary gasp, and covered her mouth with her hands.

A mutilated cat was splayed over their back door step. Andrea recognised it as a stray that wondered around the town, feeding off scraps from all the houses. Matthew had taken to it almost straight away, on account of its unusual ears that flopped over like a rabbits, rather than standing up straight.

The unfortunate creature had been split down the centre of its belly. Broken ribs protruded from its fur, and its insides were splattered across the patio. Its skull had been crushed, or bashed with a rock, with broken teeth scattered around its head. She turned and pushed Harry away from the door. Whoever had done this had done this in their back garden. She felt physically sick.

Whoever had done this was only a few steps away from becoming the sort of person who would set someone on fire for kicks.


	7. Advice

**Matthew**

"You sure you're ok?" Matthew shook his brothers shoulder and asked the question for about the hundredth time. Harry shrugged his hand off impatiently.

"I'm fine. It was just a cat." He reached out and placed a card on the pile in the middle of the table. He didn't seem upset at all, and that worried Matthew. Harry loved animals, and had often been reduced to tears at the sight of an injured animal on the side of the road. When Andrea had told him about the incident and pointed him in the direction of Glenns house, Matthew had expected to find Harry red eyed and almost in mourning. Instead, he was calm and playing a game of cards with Carl, Sophie and a few of the other children in the neighbourhood. Matthew knew he shouldn't be surprised, after everything they had been through, of course Harry would be harder. He just wished he was doing something to show he was upset. He sighed, and leaned against the wall of the house, absent mindly scratching his scarred cheek.

The nurse in the town had given him some eyedrops and now not only did his eye not burn, it didn't look as gross either. He still couldn't see out of it, but at least he knew he looked more normal. Not that it seemed to have put anyone in town off him. All the kids looked at him like he was a superhero. The story of how he had ended up with one eye had spread-and escalated-like a wild fire amongst them. The last he had heard, he had not been tied to a chair as a result of miscalculating his attempts to get medical equipment for Daryl, but had had acid thrown in his face by a super mutated zombie, which had been leading a horde of fighter zombies that he had been battling single handedly. He couldn't decide if he thought this was funny or pathetic. If he was honest with himself, he swung towards pathetic.

None of the people here knew what it was like outside the walls surrounding the town. Most of them had been inside the walls since the start of the epidemic and therefore treated him like a wondering storyteller. He could tell, that whilst they believed his stories about the zombies, they were more sceptical about his tales of the boys in the hospital, the cannibals, and T-Dogs story of the Governor. They didn't want to believe that people could turn the way they had. After a year, they were still in denial. And now someone was chopping up animals and leaving them scattered around their town.

He looked up from watching Harry and caught Bethany staring at him. Before he could look away, she gave him a small smile. He briefly returned it before looking out of the window at T-Dogs house. Andrea had dashed in to confer with T-Dog, closely followed by Dale. He didn't know why he was trying to see in the window. Andrea had asked if he wanted to join in, and he had considered it, honoured to be considered an adult. But his brotherly instinct had taken over, and now he was stuck babysitting. He turned back to observe the card game and jumped slightly. Bethany had made her way from the other side of the table and was now stood next to him, her hands behind her back, and a coy look on her face.

"Er...hey Bethany. How's it going?" Matthew stuttered, not sure what to say. He'd never spoken to Bethany before, and he took the chance to check her out properly. She was really very pretty. Her hair wasn't quite ginger, more of a strawberry blonde. She had freckles all over her nose, and her eyes were a pale sky blue. Even with the lack of consistent electricity and hot water, she always looked groomed and styled-almost preppy. Matthew could see her being one of the cheerleaders at his Middle school. Ever since he had arrived at Alexandria, she had started to, as Dale called it, make eyes at him. She wasn't subtle either. These actions reminded Matthew of Katie, the woman who had had her mind set on Daryl when they first met him at the hotel, which made him even more uncomfortable.

"That must have been horrible for poor Harry, seeing that cat. I mean, after all you've been through." She sounded sincere, and Matthew shrugged.

"He's kind of just shrugging it off. I think he's immune to this sort of stuff now." He shuffled his feet and glanced at Harry. "It's not really ideal, but what can you expect." Bethany nodded, and looked down at her feet. There was an awkward pause. Suddenly, Bethany put her hand on his arm and leaned into him. Matthew went to push her away from him, but her grip was surprisingly strong.

"Doug doesn't like you or Rick. He's going to try to make out you cut up that cat. He doesn't trust you," she half blurted, half whispered into his ear. She made to move away, but now it was Matthews turn to grab her arm.

"What are you talking about?" She looked around furtively, and shook her head, pulling away from him and slipping through the crowd of children. He watched her glide through the living room door and frowned. He was going to have to talk to Rick about this. Rick would know what to do.


	8. Challenge to Authority

**Rick**

The fences were too flimsy.

That was the first thought that came into Ricks head upon entering Alexandria. It didn't take an expert to see that even with their lack of power or expertise; his small band had been able to construct far stronger, securer fences. They may stand up against a small pack of walkers until a sharp shooter could finish them off, but if a herd came, they would fall like dominos, leaving the people of the town trapped.

The people were too complacent.

Aside from a small number of men, who patrolled the fence and occasionally ventured outside of the walls to look for survivors, no one within the town seemed to show any real concern about the outside. Once he and Carl had been settled into a small house, he had asked Peter, a kindly eyed middle aged man, who had the look of someone who had once been quite large and who had then suddenly lost a lot of weight, what the emergency procedures were if walkers invaded the town. Peter had looked confused, and had been unable to give an answer. No one knew what they would do if walkers broke through. No one had access to a gun, or any type of weapon, other than what those on patrol had. Only he and his small group were armed, only he and his friends even considered the idea that they needed to be vigilant. Whenever the subject of walkers or the outside was mentioned, people brushed it off, or refused to listen, insisting that those days were behind them, they'd suffered enough, they didn't want to be reminded.

Doug didn't like him.

When they had first arrived, Doug had been gracious and welcoming. His manner had been warm, he had explained the rules and asked if they had any concerns that they see him directly.

It appeared that this had simply been a show.

Rick could appreciate that he may have come across as cold and stony in his interview. The truth was, he had been exhausted, barely able to take in a word Doug had said, only registering the fact that Doug had managed to kill two men since the walkers had arrived. That had made him smile. Two. Doug had either been able to talk his way out of most situations, or had run away. He didn't really care which. But his smile had apparently rubbed Doug up the wrong way, and since then, he had watched Rick with an element of mistrust, and perhaps fear, although fear of what hadn't been clear until the second time Rick had spoken to him.

After a few days in the town, he had felt the need to air his concerns about the towns apparent lack of defences. He had sought a meeting with Doug, who had greeted him courteously enough and sat listening to his points silently. When Rick had finished, he had sat motionless and mute for a few moments. At first Rick thought that he was contemplating what he had told him, figuring out what the next move should be. However, when Doug finally spoke, he was less reassuring.

"So, what you're saying is that this town isn't safe and we should not only worry the townsfolk unnecessarily, but send them out unnecessarily into danger to scavenge for wood to strengthen the fence that has kept us safe in its present condition because YOU think it doesn't look safe after four days in the town." Rick blinked. Dougs voice was even, but the trace of venom was unmistakable. For a moment, Rick was blindsided, and then he found his voice.

"With all due respect Doug, you sent people out to find survivors, which is just as risky…"

"The places where we would need to go to find the wood required for the fence are crawling with walkers. We lost ten people building the original fence and yet you're demanding…"

"I'm not demanding, merely suggesting…" Rick could feel that the conversation was getting out of hand, but Doug ignored him and spoke over his voice.

"…demanding that we sacrifice more." Doug stood up and walked to the door, indicating that Rick should leave. As Rick stood, bemused at the reaction to his idea, Doug continued his irrational rant.

"I understand Rick that you are used to leading people, telling people what to do, giving orders and having them followed. But you need to remember that this is my town, and that I am in charge here not you. You need to understand that I am in charge and you need to learn to take orders from me."

And that seemed to be what this meeting was about. As far as Rick could tell, Doug had already decided that his group were responsible for the mutilation of the cat. Now for him it was just a case of deciding who.

"The fact remains Rick, that until your group came into the community, nothing like this had ever happened before." Doug sat in front of Rick, the picture of reason, logic, rationality. His hands were clasped on the table in front of him, he was leant forward in earnest, looking straight into Ricks eyes. "I can investigate those who were already here in the interest of equality, but you and I both know that that is the conclusion that they will jump to. And you and I both know that there are a number of people in your group who are unstable enough to commit such an act. People who have suffered immeasurable loss lately. You know of course who I am referring to."

Daryl and Adele. So these were Doug's suspects. Rick opened his mouth to argue their cases. If Daryl were to kill an animal, he wouldn't waste time cutting it up and making the meat unfit to eat. To him that would be a waste of good meat. As for Adele, she was rarely left alone, Craig saw to that. So if Doug wanted to convince him that either of them had disembowelled and them abandoned the cat on Andreas back porch, then he would have to show him some pretty substantial evidence.

"Then of course, there's the boy. Matthew."

Ah. Matthew. He'd wondered when Doug would mention his name. He had seen the way that Doug watched Matthew, knew that Matthews back story would have been made known to him. Doug carried on.

"The things that boy has been through would be enough to send any grown man over the edge. He's fourteen, and whilst that is young, that won't make him any less dangerous. I would suggest that you talk to those people first and then the rest of your group. I of course will deal with the others."

"No." Rick spoke for the first time. "Either I talk to all of them or you talk to all of them. None of this splitting the town. No us and them. We can work as a pair if you prefer, then we can discuss our findings together, but we do it properly as a whole. We need to show trust in each other, else they'll tear themselves apart out there."

Dougs face darkened and he looked about ready to thump Rick, but instead swallowed and nodded. " A good point Rick, and one I should have thought of myself. We'll start tomorrow then." In answer, Rick extended his good hand and shook Dougs briefly.

But even as he released Dougs hand, he knew that it was all for show.


	9. Gathering

**I'm fully aware that this side of the story is going slowly with no walker action! I'm trying to keep it fresh, I promise! xoxo**

**Craig**

The evening sky was streaked with shades of orange and red, and what little light the setting sun was giving off made long shadows creep along the sidewalk. It was beautiful. Craig had often heard people talk of the beauty of a sunset, but he had never truly appreciated it until he'd arrived in Alexandria. Sitting on Glenns porch, drinking beer with T-Dog and a few other men that he knew vaguely from around town whilst Sophie played with Carl on the front lawn, he could almost forget about the walkers that he had encountered that morning outside the towns fences. He and Glenn had started to try to integrate themselves with the Alexandria residents more, on Ricks instructions, and Craig had obliged, charming the residents and volunteering to go on the hunts for food. The current gathering at Glenns house had been his idea. Most of the community was inside, chatting, mingling, and generally getting along. He, Glenn and a few of the other men from the town were outside getting some fresh air. Dale had been out there previously, but had slipped back his house, talking about a guitar that had been left there by the previous owner. Apparently someone at the party was able to play.

The party was a celebration of the food that the group had been able to collect that morning. Craig had always managed to get by scavenging when the outbreak had started, either through looting grocery stores, or digging for roots and weeds in the forests. But Glenn took it to a whole new level, that even the experienced scavengers in Alexandria admired. He'd dug out a map of the neighbouring towns, both of which as far as anyone knew were abandoned or overrun. He'd pointed out likely hot spots for walker gatherings, ways to avoid them, or if they couldn't be avoided, the most likely ways in and out. He'd single handedly organised a run into the nearest town, which had been successfully carried out that morning, securing a large collection of canned goods and some weaponry. Doug had been impressed, and asked the pair to organise another run in the next week or so.

"Well, at least you're not on his suspect list now that you're valuable," Maggie had quipped when Glenn had told her the news. Glenn had looked confused, but Craig knew exactly what she meant. He only wished that his now apparent immunity extended to Adele the way that Glenns extended to Maggie and Sophie. Adele, Daryl and Matthew still were apparently high on Dougs hit list. Like Rick, Craig privately thought that this had nothing to do with them being likely suspects, and everything to do with a private dislike of Dougs. And like Rick, Craig spoke very little of his suspicions to anyone.

It had been three days since the interviews, and Craigs hands still itched at the memory of how Doug had doggedly, relentlessly questioned Adele, trying to trip her up, to trap her and trick her into confessing to an act she hadn't done. Rick had stepped in at the end, reminding Doug that they had other people to talk to, but Doug had made it clear that he wasn't satisfied. Later, when Craig had gone to speak to Rick about it, he had run into Andrea, fuming at a similar treatment of Matthew. When Rick told them that Daryl had received much the same, Craig had felt a stab of pity for the drunk. No-one was coming to Rick on his behalf. Since then, Craig had tried to make sure Adele was never alone, so that she would always have an alibi, making sure to leave her with woman outside the group so that they would stick with Doug. Currently, she was in the house with Maggie, playing cards with some of the other neighbourhood women. The enforced socialising seemed to have done her good. Maggie was gentle with her, and the other women supportive and sympathetic to her loss. She even seemed to have relaxed her vendetta against Daryl for the moment.

"He's suffering enough," she confided in Craig. "Who does he have left now he's pushed the boys away?" The comment had bothered Craig.

"So, here's something I've been wondering for a while." Luke, a freckle faced man, who looked far younger than his 30 something years, picked at the label of his beer. "Those Zombies out there. Do you think they'll ever just stop?" The men gave an involuntary glance to the fence. Luke took a swing of his drink and continued. "They operate on basic brain functions, but they're dead and rotting right? So the brains got to rot away at some point and then they'll stop." He looked around at the others. "Right?"

"Maybe not the brain, but we've seen a couple of walkers that were too wasted away to move." Glenn adjusted and re adjusted his baseball cap. "So it could happen I guess."

"Right!" Luke got more animated. "So we just sit tight, shoot the ones that come near the camp, and soon, there won't be anymore, and we can really start to get things sorted!" He beamed around at the group.

"You're forgetting about the disease. You still have to deal with people that without getting bitten." Craig turned his head to look at the speaker. Allen was one of the oldest men in the town, which didn't count for much, seeing as Dale and Doug were the oldest and the others seemed to average around the late 30's to early 40's. Craig wasn't even sure if he really was old, or if grief had just aged him prematurely. He had lost his wife, Donna, and his only daughter before coming to the town. From speaking to the others, Craig had discovered that although his wife had been taken by the walkers, his daughter had been in the hospital with scarlet fever. With lack of medicine or anyone qualified to administer it, she had died from the disease and then risen again as a walker. Craig didn't know if Allen had had the heart to kill her again. He now lived in a small house near the town entrance with his twin boys, Billy and Ben, who were around Harrys age. Craig had seen them playing together outside Andrea and Dales house. They seemed nice enough, although they freaked Craig out a little. Nothing that he could put his finger on, they just did. He put it down to too many re runs of The Shining and the fact that they were twins.

"You still have to be diligent with people dying. You can't be soft. When they come back, they're not the person that left you." Allen fell silent and Craig was struck by an awful thought. He wondered if it was Allens daughter that killed Donna. It wouldn't be the first time he'd heard of re animated people killing family members, of people being too grief stricken or disbelieving to resist their family. The group was silent, and Craig felt uneasy.

"You're all looking very serious." Andrea and Miao walked onto the porch. Craig immediately rose from his seat, indicating that Miao should sit, but she shook her head. "I'm fine thanks. Andrea thinks that there might be some clothes I can fit into at her house. We're going to try things on."

"And find Dale. I don't know what he's doing, that guitar is in the corner of the spare bedroom, it's not hidden." Andrea looked exasperated. "All these women keep trying to set me up with 'men my own age'. I need Dale as a shield, they won't do it with him right in front of me."

"He's probably trying to convince your boy Matthew to come. He's still pretty upset about being called a cat mangler isn't he. Dale's just probably talking some sense into him." Craig couldn't help but notice Lukes eyes give Andrea the once over. "Seems unfair of Doug to just accuse Matthew like that. My moneys on that Daryl guy. I'm not saying he's an out and out murderer," he raised his hands in self defence as Craig, Glenn and Miao glared at him. "I'm just saying he's drunk half the time and hunts. He probably shot the thing thinking it was a squirrel and then dumped it."

"Wherever Dale is, he's been gone for almost an hour." Andrea made her way down the steps, Miao close behind her. "We'll be back in about an hour. We'll send Dale back."

"Is Adele ok in there?" Craig ignored the sly looks exchanged between the men.

"She's fine. She's talking to Emma. Emma's being really lovely with her." Miao paused for a moment. "Why, you worried?"

"I just wanted to make sure she wasn't having a nervous breakdown." Miao nodded and carried on down the street with Andrea. Craig looked at his beer and noticed it was empty.

"Anyone else want another?" A few men nodded and Craig made his way into the house.

He spotted Emma and Adele almost instantly. They were in a small corner, chatting with drinks in hand. He was relieved to see that Adele was actually smiling, something which lightened his feeling of anxiety. He started to make his way to the stairs, where the beer was being kept at a reasonable level of coolness in the bath. He ran into T-Dog on the way, who was deep in conversation with someone whose name he couldn't remember. When he spotted Craig, he smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"How's the porch?" Craig nodded and smiled.

"Quieter and cooler than in here that's for sure." He nodded at the man that T-Dog had been speaking to, who was making his way back to his…wife? Neighbour? Girlfriend. He couldn't' remember. "Who's that?"

"Dammed if I know." T-Dog shrugged picking up a sandwich and biting into it. Craig hoped it was his. "But he was telling me about the perils of first time fatherhood. I'm now prepared for vomiting, screaming and sleepless nights." He shrugged. "I think keeping watch for walkers in the woods has more than prepared me." He poked Craig in the chest. "How're you anyway. Still keeping an eye on Adele?"

"Yeah. I think she's pulling through though. She seems…better." T-Dog nodded and swallowed.

"That's good. It'll take time, but if she's here then that's better than locking herself in her house. Like some people." Craig nodded. T-Dog sighed. "I've just been to check on him now. Looked through the window. Passed out on his couch again, in the same position he was at lunch. I had to bang on the window five times to get him to move, make sure he hadn't choked on his own vomit." He shook his head. "Can't go on like this forever." He paused for a moment, and then seemed to wake himself. "Sorry man, you were going for beer. Can you grab me one on the way?"

"Sure, sure." Craig made his way up the stairs into the bathroom, which was full to the rafters of beer and whiskey. He pulled out a couple of bottles and made his way back to T-Dog.

He was just handing a bottle to him, when he heard Andreas voice. Or more accurately, he heard her scream. The whole party went silent, and a feeling of intense dread spread through Craig. He'd never heard Andrea scream. He'd never seen her show anything close to fear than unease. He couldn't imagine what would make her react in such a way, didn't want to know. T-Dog had already leapt into action, barging his way through the crowd to the sound of Andreas voice, probably scared that Miao was hurt. He followed him, although his instinct was to run in the opposite direction.

Andrea and Miao were on the porch, Miao was sobbing in T-Dogs arms, whilst Andrea was already leading a group of the men who had been on the porch away. Back to her house? Craig was confused,

"What happened? What's going on?" He looked to T-Dog for an answer, but it was Miao who answered in choked, strangled gulps.

"Dale…Dale's been attacked. Someone's tried to kill him."


	10. Running

**This may not be my best work, it took me ages to get this to a place I was halfway happy with. Oh well. I hope you at least enjoy it a little! **

**Matthew**

The night air was cool on his cheek, and he gulped it down gratefully. He had a searing stitch in his side, but he couldn't stop running. The handgun banged against his thigh, and the backpack was thumping rhythmically against his back as he crossed the wastelands. No walkers were in sight, but he couldn't stop scanning the area. Finally, he stopped, clutching a road sign for support. Fumbling slightly, he groped around in his pack for the bottle of water Morgan had shoved in, and forced himself to take short sips. No telling how long it would have to last, and if he had learnt anything from Daryl, it was that if walkers didn't kill you, dehydration would. He leant over his knees and tried to collect his thoughts together.

He'd found Dale before Andrea. He'd heard the commotion from downstairs, Dales shouts a scuffle and then the thud. For some reason, he'd been unable to move for a full five minutes. He'd known he needed to go downstairs, that the more time he wasted; the more life would ebb out of Dale. He'd finally ordered himself down the stairs, hesitantly, shakily, trying to steel himself, to convince himself that it would be no different to seeing a walker lying there, knowing from experience it wouldn't be.

He'd seen him almost immediately. His eyes were closed, and the blood was pooling around him. Matthew didn't see how he could lose so much blood and live. Despite himself, he walked to him, and knelt beside him, to check for a pulse. It was weak and fading fast.

The next few moments seemed to have erased themselves from his memory. One minute he'd been kneeling in Dales blood, the next, he'd been banging on someones door. He remembered that at first he hadn't known whose door, and then it had opened and Morgan had been stood there. He remembered being grabbed and pulled into the house, which had stunk of stale alcohol and vomit. Then Daryl had staggered into the frame.

Why had he gone to Daryl? Daryl had abandoned him, pushed him off onto Dale, washed his hands of him and Harry. Matthew couldn't find a decent reason in his head. In the absence of any concrete memories, Matthew theorised that he had gone to Morgan, but seen him go to Daryls. That was the only theory that he could come up with.

Morgan had sprung into action. He'd started to clean him up and calm him down. Matthews blood-stained clothes had been thrown into Daryls back yard, onto a smouldering pile of wood that Daryl had been smoking squirrels on. He'd somewhat bravely ventured into Daryls room and found a shirt and jeans that would fit him and somehow, managed to sooth him and coax the information out of him. When Matthew had stammered out his story, Morgan had stood up and turned to Daryl.

"Don't let anyone in. If anyone comes knocking, hide him in your room. Nobody's going to want to go in there. Daryl." He'd grabbed a stunned looking Daryl by the shoulder. "Don't. Fuck. This. Up." Then he'd left. Matthew hadn't been able to look at Daryl. It was hard enough to be in the same room with him. He hated him. Matthew was surprised just how much he hated him. How could his feelings have changed so much in such a short time. It could have only been five to six weeks since he had really thought he was getting something like a life back, for him and Harry. Daryl and Georgie had been together and they had been acting like a real family. Well, not the sort of family he had been use to-he couldn't think of any of his friends who had been taught to shoot, snare and trap animals and then skin them-but it was something.

Then Georgie had died and Daryl had been lost to them. He had been so sure he'd come round, that he just needed time. But then he had handed them over to Dale and Andrea. He hadn't even told them himself; just let Dale and Andrea guide them into their house. How could anyone do that to their family? Matthew had simply come to the conclusion that he was never part of Daryls family.

Morgan had been back within minutes, with T-Dog and a backpack.

"You got to get out of the village. You got to hide. Doug hasn't started shooting his mouth off yet, but you can bet that when he does, you'll be suspect number one." T-Dog had taken charge and started to sweep Daryls kitchen for anything that would be useful.

"What?" Daryl had snapped out of his stupor and stared at T-Dog. "Why can't he jus stay hidden here? Ya can't send him out there."

"Why do you care?" The words had been out of Matthews mouth before he could stop them. "You handed us over to Dale and Andrea, you were done with us. So why do you care now?" He stood up, shaking all over, from the adrenaline? Fury? Or something else. "At least you managed to teach me how to hunt. At least you managed to teach me one useful thing." At some point, he'd started shouting. "So don't bother yourself with pretending to care, I'll be fine!" He'd half stumbled half ran out of the room into the downstairs bathroom, nausea overwhelming him before he managed to get to the toilet bowl. As he retched, he felt a calm hand rubbing his shoulder. Soon, it was nothing but stomach acid and he'd sat up to see Morgan looking at him.

"Listen son." Morgans quiet, even toned voice had calmed him enough for him to stop shaking. "I know grief. And whatever you think, Daryl didn't abandon you because he didn't care. He can barely take care of himself right now. You've seen the house. He's been a mess." Morgan had lifted up Matthew by his elbow and led him into the living room, where Daryl had joined T-Dog in his frantic search of the room. On seeing Matthew, he'd staggered over to him, and held out a knife.

No. Not a knife. THE knife. Matthew stood up straight, and pulled it out from his coat, studying it reverently. It was simple enough, a wooden handle, with 'DIXON' carved into it, a serrated edge and a leather band wrapped around the joint. To anyone else, it was just an ordinary knife. But Matthew remembered the first time he'd seen it in action. He and Daryl had been in the woods. Georgie had suggested that Matthew should go out for a couple of days without the younger children, to get a feel of what survival was really like. It had been a big deal

On the second day, Daryl and Matthew had seen signs that there was a herd of deer nearby. After half a day of tracking, they had found a buck grazing in the fields. Matthew had managed to get an arrow into the animals hind legs, and they had tracked it until well into the evening. With the light fading, Daryl had taken out the knife and flung it into the creature, effectively killing it.

Later, Daryl had shown Matthew the knife, explaining that his grandfather, or as Daryl called him, his granddaddy, had made it, and given it to his father. Then Daryl had gotten it off his father (he vaguely mentioned that Merle had been pissed about this.)

"When you turn 16, whenever you think that is, you can have it." Matthew had been stunned and simply stared. "Wut? I ain't got kids. You're closet thing I got to family. Hell, you an Harry, you are family. More family then Merle, wherever he is. I wan you ta have it."

And now he did. He'd wanted to refuse it at first, show Daryl that he didn't need or want anything from him. Instead, he'd taken it. He'd thought Daryl was going to hug him. Instead, he'd gripped him hard on his shoulders.

"Jus…don't git cornered. Find water. An make a couple of marks fur me. I'll come fin ya when this shit's sorted. I'll sort it." Matthew closed his eyes. He didn't doubt that Daryl had probably meant it, but he didn't want to put too much faith in him. He couldn't face being let down. He had to rely on Morgan and T-Dog. They had smuggled him out of the village, pulling one of the panels on the, frankly useless, fence and pointed him in the right direction. And then he had run. He knew he could survive, he knew he could find everything he needed; Daryl and Georgie had taught him well enough for that. He was smart enough that he could keep low and hide from the walkers. He could kill walkers with the knife or the gun. All he needed to worry about was what would happen to Harry and Sophie. He shook his head. He couldn't worry about that, not until he got to the town and found shelter. He started to move again, setting off at the steady jog he had been going at previously.

Harry would be ok, he reasoned. He was hardy, and had friends he could rely on. Surely T-Dog or Morgan would explain to him the situation, he would understand why Matthew had left. Even Harry knew that Doug hated him. As for Sophie, as long as she stayed silent, she would be ok. Morgan hadn't said anything. Carl and Harry would never say anything that would put Sophie in danger. So as long as she kept her cool, didn't panic, no one would have any reason to suspect that she was already technically a murderer. No-one needed to know she could take a human life.

No-one needed to know that it was her that had placed a bullet between Merle Dixons eyes.


	11. Broken

**Andrea**

His death was sad, but not unexpected.

Andrea had been prepared for Dales death from the moment she had decided to allow herself to act on her feelings for him. He was older, slower. He was a good shot, but he needed a fraction more time than anyone else to get his aim. She'd been prepared for him to die at the hands of the un dead, or from simple old age, prepared herself every morning that they'd been on the move, or packed up in tents and cars. But against all odds, he'd survived. Survived when the younger and stronger had died. Carol, Shane, Ben, Georgie. Amy. If she'd had to bet on any of them against Dale, she would have chosen them. But he hadn't been killed in a brutal arena conflict, pulled apart by cannibals, stabbed by racists or even bitten by walkers.

No, Dale had died in his home, the one place that they were supposed to be safe.

Holding his hand in the small building that had passed for a hospital, Andrea had felt the life ebb out of him. She willed him to regain consciousness one last time, to allow her to say what she needed to say to him and have him hear it. But when he finally opened his eyes, it was with the same awful rasping sounds that Amy had made. This time Andrea hadn't hesitated to shoot him in the temple. Quickly, cleanly and with a steady hand.

She didn't really remember getting back a house, only that Emma gently guided her, steered her away from her home, where the scent of Dales blood still lingered in the air. She remembered being sat down on a bed, her shoes removed, and swallowing some bitter, medical tasting liquid. Then she fell into a blissfully, dreamless sleep.

Waking up the next day was its own special kind of hell. At first she was confused as to why she wasn't in her own house, and turned in her bed to ask Dale for an explanation. Then she realised she was alone in a single bed. The memory of why she was alone hit her seconds later, and she started to choke down anguished sobs. Voices from downstairs fell hushed and she placed her closed fists to her mouth to silence herself. Pulling the blankets around her head, she buried herself in grief as she sobbed out her pain into the unfamiliar pillows.

She thought she knew pain and loss. God knows she had suffered when Amy had died. Contemplating suicide in the C.D.C had been a low point that she thought she would never recover from. But Dale had pulled her through, and helped her see that there was a reason to go on. But who was going to keep her going through Dales death? Every time she though she had run out of tears, a fresh wave came, relentlessly streaming down her cheeks as she tried to muffle her cries with the pillow. But the silence downstairs told her that she was loud enough to be heard, and her weakness was exposed.

At some stage she must have fallen asleep, as she opened her eyes to see Morgan, Rick and Adele sat in the room. Adele was sat on the floor next to her head, hand on her forehead. When she saw Andreas eyes open, she smiled weakly.

"Take some broth." She reached for a bowl on the cabinet beside Andrea and held it out, then seemed to change her mind. "Actually, it's cold. Maybe you could get some…" she trailed off helplessly.

"What, no tea?" Andrea said the sentence half jokingly, but felt a knot form in her stomach at the same time a flicker of pain crossed Adeles face. Tea had always been a standing joke with Georgie and Dale. Georgie had even admitted to Andrea that she had started to crave the stuff, and that the blame lay solely with Dale. She went to bury her face in the pillows again, but something stopped her.

"Where, where are the boys? Matthew and Harry, are they ok?" She expected an immediate answer, a reassurance, but nothing came. She felt panic start to rise inside her and sat up. "The boys. Where are they?" Rick and Adele were looking anywhere but her, their faces unreadable. Morgan however, stood up and walked to her, sitting himself on the edge of her bed, taking her hands in his. Suddenly, Andrea felt something like a scream starting to work its way up from her chest to her mouth.

_They're dead. Don't say it, they're dead and I'm alone. _

"Harry is downstairs with Daryl. Daryl's taken care of him for a while." He smiled, stroking her hands, gently. The scream subsided and Andrea closed her eyes, letting the relief wash over her. No more bad news. She opened them again.

"Daryl's, got it together now then? That's good. How's Matthew taking it?" Morgans grip on her hand tightened and the panic started to beat against her chest again, like a frightened bird in a cage.

"Andrea, there's something you need to know." Adele came to sit behind her, and started to rub her back. Rick knelt on the floor in front of her and Morgan started to explain to her what had happened to Matthew.

It wasn't until Emma came running in and placed the needle into her arm that Andrea realised that the other noise, the noise that drowned out Morgans calm voice, that scared her with its pain and fear was coming from her.

**So, I'm really just playing up the misery factor for a bit-sorry! next chapter is from Daryls POV, and I feel like I want some pointless Georgie/Daryl flashback-although if you just want me to get on with some death and slaying, I'll save that for another time. **


	12. Mending

**Apologies for any slightly non PC/Offensive language…but it's Daryl. I tried to steer away from cheese but meh.**

**Daryl **

She sounded like a wounded animal. Daryl cast a wary eye up to the ceiling of Emmas kitchen, where he and Harry were currently sat. Harry was hunched up at the table, his hands over his ears, a look of fear and sadness all over his face. Daryl beckoned him over, and after a moments hesitation Harry buried himself in Daryls arms.

"S'all right kid."

"No it's not!" Harry pushed himself away from Daryl. "Georgie's dead and you kicked us out. And now Dales dead, Andrea's going to do the same. But it's worse, because Matthews run away and everyone thinks he did it and I'm on my own!" He ran out of the kitchen, barging past Emma, who started after him bemused as he slammed the front door closed. She turned to look at Daryl.

"I got him." Daryl pulled himself out of the chair and strode towards the door.

"Wait." Emma pulled open a kitchen cupboard and beckoned him towards her. "Take these first." Daryl looked at the two pills in his hand.

"One's for your burn, ones for your headache." She picked up a glass and filled it with water. "Miao told me that after Georgie and Ben died, no one was sure if you were taking your medication. And I can only imagine the comedown you're on after going cold turkey." She pressed the glass into his hand. "Take them. I promise they're not poison."

Daryl gulped the two pills down with the water and then shuddered.

"Taste 'bout as bad a poison." He placed the glass on the side and made for the kitchen door.

"I know what it's like." He stopped, hand on the door handle. "To lose someone important to you." Emma's voice broke slightly. "When you first arrived, I didn't know…but after talking to people, I understand what she was to you. I still think the drinking was irresponsible, but I can understand why."

Daryl couldn't think of a response. No way in hell did he want to get into any kind of discussion about Georgie, especially not with some dyke who had never even known her. "Ima find Harry before he does something stupid." Emma might have said something else before the door closed, but he wasn't listening.

His burns. They covered most of the left side of his body, turning his skin leathery and hard. With practise, he'd regained most of the use in his left hand-luckily he was right handed anyway-but it had been a slow, painful process. Changing and cleaning his burns-his arm in particular-had been so painful, Daryl had outright refused to let Ben do it for three days.

_The smell was disgusting. Daryl didn't even want to think what it looked like. It was probably bad, he knew that. But just the thought of having to endure having the bandages peeled off, feel skin peel off, have Ben dig out the dead skin from the hole in his arm…last time he'd nearly passed out with pain. He'd rather be stabbed or shot than go through it again. Sitting in the RV, he wondered if he could just cut off the dam thing and be done with it. _

_Suddenly the RV door flew open. Daryl sat himself up on his good arm, ready to defend himself against Bens bedside manner. But it was Georgie. His first reaction was to smile, his second to very firmly put his poker face on. He knew he liked her, but he couldn't see any reason for her to like him back. She'd spent a lot of time sat with him, chatting about what was happening in the camp, and insulting everyone to in an attempt to make him laugh, but it was like the Rick thing. She was sitting with him because she was kind. _

_He pulled the bed sheets up higher hiding as much of his bandages as possible, and started to speak._

_"That Paddy moron still…"_

_"Daryl Dixon, you are the most fucking stupid being I've ever met."_

_Oh crap. She was on the rag. Daryl decided to keep his mouth shut. She looked PISSED. She strode over to the bed leant down so her face was uncomfortably close to him. He wasn't sure if it was a good or bad uncomfortable. _

_"Are you seriously going to let your arm rot off because it HURTS to have the bandages changed? Because Ben says if you don't let him clean it, you're going to die of blood poisoning and gangrene." _

_"Naw." Daryl tried to maintain eye contact, but Georgies brown eyes held a level of rage that wasn't usually directed at him. This was definitely bad uncomfortable. "Naw, jus cut it off. Can still fight with one arm. I won't be useless." _

_"Oh my god." Georgie stood up and buried her face in her hands. "Daryl…"Dropping her hands, Daryl was confused to see the rage replaced by something like fear. "Daryl. We don't have the resources for that. You've already lost so much blood. You're weak from the burns. If we amputate, you won't survive. I mean, I know Adele says you're a cockroach, but…not even you can survive this."And to Daryl's bewilderment and shock, her eyes started to fill with tears. _

_"Oh hell, no more cryin'! I'll let him rip the dam stuff off, jus don cry!" In an attempt to calm the crying Georgie down, Daryl gritted his teeth and started to rip the bandage off his arm, cursing as the skin came with it. _

_"Don't do it like that!" Georgie swatted his hand away in alarm. "Is that what Ben was doing to you? No wonder you want it cut off. Here, lie down and hold out the arm." _

_Daryl hesitantly lay back down on the bed as Georgie grabbed the lotion and antiseptic off the side bed. Pulling out a knife, she started to cut away at the bandage, pausing every inch or so to apply antiseptic. It still hurt, but it was better than losing layers of skin to Ben._

_"Oh shitting hell, this smells rank." Georgie went pale, and swallowed. "How have you coped having this next to you Dixon? Oh god, this needs burning, it's probably got evil spirits living in it." She held up a bandage between her thumb and forefinger and flicked it into the corner of the room. Daryl noticed her eyes had stopped watering._

_"That's a dirty trick, pretendin' ta cry." She smiled slyly. _

_"Well, I remember you don't do so well with hysterical women." She turned, dousing a wad of cotton in antiseptic and started to wipe the worse of the yellowy fluid from his arm. Daryl gritted his teeth and tried not to cry out. "Anyway." She tossed the cotton ball into the corner with the bandage. "Who says I was pretending?" She held Daryls gaze for a moment, before she shifted down on the bed. "You know what I have to do now don't you?" She turned his arm over to look at the hole. Daryl sat up, bracing himself. "You know this is going to really hurt don't you?" She picked up a small teaspoon, and bite her lip. Instinctively, Daryl grasped her free hand with his burnt one, and clasped the edge of the bed with his good one. _

_"You know, it's just going to make it more difficult for me if you do that." Even as she said it, she interlaced her fingers with his. _

_"Better than me hitting you." Daryl closed his eyes and looked away._

_"Booooooyyyy….if you hit me, you're in for a world of pain." Georgie paused. "More than you are already. Just, try not to move." _

_Daryl did make a lot less fuss than when Ben cleaned him. Partly, because Georgie seemed intent on not hurting him, and didn't seem to mind how long it took, where as Ben just wanted to get the whole thing over and done with as fast as possible, no matter how much it hurt. But mainly, because he didn't want to look weak in front of Georgie._

_"Done." After what seemed like forever, Daryl turned his head to see Georgie putting down the teaspoon. "I'm gonna pack it with cotton wool." _

_"Will that help?" Georgie shrugged._

_"I don't know. They did it to Russell Crowe in Gladiator, so..." She grinned at him, and in spite of himself, Daryl smiled back. "I need my other hand though." _

_She pushed the cotton wool into the wound, and then started to cover his arm in the antiseptic lotion. _

_"You know, if you die, you leave Harry and Matthew alone. I mean, yeah we'd all look after them, and you know I'd never let anything happen to them, but they need you." Daryl scowled._

_"Matthews blind in one eye because of me." _

_"Maybe so. But don't you think that shows something about your relationship? That Matthew knew what could happen to him, and he still went to get medicine for you. He showed us all up." She picked up a clean set of bandages and started to wrap Daryls arm. "When I asked him why he did such a stupid thing, he said it was the sort of thing you'd do for him. And I know he was right. He and Harry, they need you to be on form. You're the father figure in their lives now."_

_"Aw hell no." Daryl started, accidentally messing up the bandages. "I can't…I can't look after them kids like that!" _

_"Er…you already killed cannibals for them, and gave Harry some totally health and safety free lessons on how to skin rabbits. You showed them both how to shoot, and Harry would follow you everywhere if he could. I mean, sure you swear like a sailor, and you have a tendency to not think anything through, and you have NO tact, you're slightly racist and sexist, and we have just established, you're stupid. But they could do worse." Daryl must have looked very unimpressed, because Georgie laughed. "They know as well as I do, that you're always going to be there for them, and that's what a dad does. So you're doing fine. Now, lie down. I'm going to burn the toxic waste." Standing up, she started to gather the bandages and dirty cotton wool. _

_"Georgie?"_

_"Mmm?" She didn't turn around. _

_"Do you really think I'll be ok with them?" _

_She laughed and opened the door. "Of course. You're stupid, but you're one of the best men I've met. And I mean, like ever. Not just since 99% of them died." _

He'd let her down by drinking himself into a stupor these past few weeks. Georgie had obviously believed in him, and he'd insulted her memory by wallowing in self-pity. If he had just gritted his teeth, the same way he'd gritted his teeth all the times she'd dressed his arm, worked through the pain until it lessened, then he would have been at the party with Matthew and he wouldn't be a suspect. And yet, even though he had let him down, it was his door Matthew had come to. It was time for him to man up. He was going to show Harry that he wasn't abandoning him again. And then he was going to clear Matthews name so T-Dog could bring him home. Starting with getting a decent look at Dales body before he was buried.


	13. Trust

**T-Dog**

Staring down at Dales corpse, T-Dog realised that his grief was muted. Death was so normal to him now. So many people had died, that he was more surprised if a long period of time went by and someone HADN'T died. It wasn't like he wasn't sad about Dale. Of course he was. Dale had been like a father to everyone in the group. He'd been the one everyone had gone to for advice. He knew that Glenn and Daryl had both asked his advice on Maggie and Georgie, seeing as he had had a long marriage. Heck, he'd gone to him for advice. They'd spoken about him being honorary grandfather.

This place. It'd tricked them all into thinking they were safe. And they were safe from the walkers. Apparently just not from other people. What the hell had happened to the world where you were more at risk from other people then monsters? The Governor, the Cannibals, the Nazis, the boys in the hospital, their group had suffered more at the hands of the living than the dead. If Miao wasn't pregnant, he'd had packed their things up and left the complex the same night that Dales body had been found.

"It's a damn shame old man," he murmured looking at Dales face. "A damn shame."

The door behind him opened, and he heard someone enter.

"T-Dog. Glad you're already here." Emma walked briskly around to the other side of the table, followed by Rick and Daryl. Daryl looked thinner than T-Dog remembered him, and he had dark circles under his eyes, but the look of general disinterest and distain was back. He nodded curtly at T-Dog, who nodded back. There would be time to establish his general state of mind later. Emma stood in front of the table and glanced at each of the three men.

"I won't keep you. I noticed something odd about the wounds on Dales stomach. I was hoping you would be able to take a closer look." She pulled the sheet away from Dales stomach and stepped back to allow the men to have a closer look.

Even though it was his old friend lying there, hacked to pieces, T-Dog found it disturbingly easy to look past that. To push emotions and memories deep down inside him, and view the body in front of him as nothing more than a slab of meat. He leaned forward to examine the wounds closer.

One thing was obvious almost straight away. These were not just stab wounds. They were too long, too jagged. It was more like a slashing motion. No. Slashing suggested that the wounds were shallow. These were deep and cruel. It was like the knife had been plunged into the body, and then forced in various directions. He wrinkled his nose, and leant back, just as Daryl poked at the skin. For a moment, he simply prodded the cut, then to T-Dogs horror, he pulled the flab of skin to reveal a gapping hole and stretched the hole wider, as if examining the insides of Dale. T-Dog looked at Emma, to see that he wasn't the only one revolted by this. Her face had gone pale and she looked like she was about to throw up. Obviously she was now regretting her decision to invite Daryl. Only Ricks face was emotionless.

Daryl examined the insides, looking slightly confused. He stood still for a moment, then seemed to make up his mind, pushing a hand into Dales insides.

"Oh God!" Emma retched and covered her mouth. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath and pushed Ricks hand away. "I'm ok. I just…didn't quite…expect THAT." She threw a glance at Daryl and breathed deeper. Daryl ignored her, and carried on.

"His stomach's missing."

"What?" Rick moved forward, as if to examine the contents himself, then thought better of it.

"His stomach, an' most of his insides. Bin ripped out." Daryl pulled his hand out of the hole and wiped his hand on his trousers.

"You have got to be kidding me." T-Dog stared at Dale, silently apologising to him for the way his body was being manhandled by Daryl. He looked into the hole that Daryl had just been… 'exploring' and studied it closer. His knowledge of human anatomy was somewhat limited, but after what must be close to a year of dealing with rotting, collapsing dead bodies, he knew what he expected to see. And Daryl was right, Dales insides were missing.

"Ok," Emma turned back to the table. "That was a little more through then I expected. But yes, I did think that the wounds were a little severe for simple stab wounds. I hadn't realised that organs had been removed. Thank you Daryl. That would explain why he bled out so quickly."

"Does anyone else know about this?" Ricks voice was quiet, but clear.

"No Doug does not know." Emma gave a small smile. "As we agreed, we only let Doug know the bare minimum about what's going on in the group. He just knows that Dale died of stab wounds and blood loss." Rick nodded grimly.

"Then we need to keep this between ourselves for now. We can't spread panic amongst our group and if we tell Doug, then there's a chance that we'll all be branded as…"

"As what?" Emma raised an eyebrow. But Rick didn't respond.

"We'll bury him tonight." He opened the door and went out, closely followed by an ill looking Emma, leaving T-Dog and Daryl alone. T-Dog took the opportunity to say something that he knew he should have said a long time ago.

"Look. You know I'm not a poet or anything. And this is long overdue. But, I'm real sorry about Georgie man. I know she meant a lot to you, and the way things went down, I'm mean that was fucked up. I'm sorry, and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you more. I should have done more." He paused, wanting to word the next sentence right. "We were thinking, Miao and I, that if it was a girl, we'd like to name her Georgie, if it's ok by you. And we still want you to be its godfather." He fell silent, watching Daryl carefully.

"Godfather?" Daryl looked more confused than anything.

"Yeah. Didn't Georgie say? We said we wanted you both and Adele to bring it up if anything happened to us." Daryl shrugged his face unreadable and remained silent.

"Well, I guess she didn't think to bring it up, given the circumstances." T-Dog faltered, trying to think of something else to say, but his brain went blank.

"I'm stayin with Andrea and Harry. Come over later, if ya want. I dunno what ta say ta Andrea, she jus cries all the time. Miao'll know what ta say. An I can cook up some rabbit or somethin', be good for th baby." It wasn't a response to the question, but it was a start. T-Dog followed Daryl out of the make shift morgue next to the graveyard. For such a small town, it was already alarmingly big.

"Alright then. I'll see you tonight." Daryl grunted in response and strode off towards Andreas house. T-Dog shivered and rubbed his arms. It was getting cold again. Even though winter had to be a long way off, and by his reckoning summer wasn't over, the weather was definitely getting cooler. Matthew had been out on his own for two days now. He couldn't get out to him until Dales murderer had been found. Doug wasn't allowing anyone in or out, and Rick was backing him up on this. When T-Dog had tried to explain the predicament to him, Rick had cut him off.

"I have to look like I'm working with Doug on this one. As for Matthew, if you don't tell me what you've done with him, I don't have to lie. I'm trusting you on this one T-Dog. You need to trust me too."

They were all playing their cards pretty close to their chests at the moment. T-Dog didn't like this. No-one had the complete picture in front of them, and he wasn't use to being kept out of the loop. He had become pretty use to being Ricks right hand man, and concealing things from him felt strange. And now all he had to go on was trust.

Trust that Rick knew what he was doing.

Trust that Matthew could survive alone in a world where almost everyone and everything wanted to kill him.

Trust that Emma was on their side, and wouldn't run to Doug.

Shivering again, although this time not from cold, he started to walk back to his house, where Miao was waiting for him.


	14. Father and Son

**I'm really annoyed at the amount of times I typed 'his dad' here, but Carl probably would never call his dad 'Rick'. **

**Carl**

Carl watched his dad looking around the graveyard. Something was troubling him, he could see that. He'd become very good at reading his father's emotions. He didn't know if that was because they had been spending more time together, or because he was more grown up. He knew he was more grown up then a lot of the children that lived in the community. All the children that had come with the group were. He remembered going out with his father and Andrea to practise shooting, and actually taking down a walker or two. It had been a long way away, and sideways on. Andrea had been going to shoot it, but his dad had stopped her.

"Let Carl have a shot. He may as well get use to a moving target." Carl had stared at him wide eyed, and then back at the walker. It hadn't spotted them, and it was still shuffling about, but slowly. His dad had knelt by him and talked him through it.

"Take your time. Remember to try and guess where it'll be in the next second. It it's moving, you need to anticipate it. Stay calm, take deep breaths to clear your head. Exhale as you pull the trigger."

The walker fell to the ground like a stone. Carl looked at Andrea and his dad, who both nodded approvingly.

"Great shot, just like your dad." Andrea, shouldered her rifle and the three of them had moved on. When he had told this story to Billy and Ben, they had looked at him in awe.

"Your daddy really let you shoot one?" Carl had tried to explain the importance of being able to defend yourself outside the town walls, but the boys didn't seem to grasp that it had been a lesson, not a treat. Something about the way their eyes gleamed, and the way they looked at him had made him uneasy, and he had kept away from them since, preferring to stick with Matthew and Sophie, or go on patrol around the town with his dad.

He'd noticed that his dad treated him more like an adult recently. He didn't hide as many things from him, and he was allowed to stay in the room when he was talking about 'grown up stuff'. When his dad went out, he didn't get someone to watch him, he just let him stay at home. But today, Carl didn't feel like staying home alone, which was why he was now stood by the church watching his dad walk around the graveyard. He heard the church door close, and turned to see Gabriel, the towns minister walking down the path.

"Good evening Carl," he called cheerfully. "Should you be out at this time of night?" Carl looked down at his feet, knowing that now his dad would realise he was there, when he should be at home.

"I'm just waiting for my dad," he mumbled, hating Gabriel, even though it really wasn't his fault. The minister nodded.

"Nasty business about Dale." His face softened, and he looked like he was really sad. Carl didn't see why. Dale hadn't been his friend. "Tell your father if anyone has any particular verses or words they'd like read, why, I'll try to do him justice." Shaking his head, he walked away. Carl watched him for a moment, wondering if he was just fake sad, like adults did when they were suppose to be, or if he really was upset that someone had died. He couldn't tell. He moved through the gate of the graveyard, where his dad was watching him.

"What are you looking for?" His dad looked him up and down and took a long time to reply.

"I thought I told you to stay at home." Carl shrugged. His dad wasn't mad, just tired.

"I didn't want to. Ben and Billy kept asking me if I wanted to come over." His dad just nodded.

"Alright, well mind you don't touch anything. Stand close to me." Carl obeyed his dad, happy not to have to go back to the creepy twins. He watched as his dad studied the graves in front of him.

"What're you looking for?" For a moment, his dad said nothing, and then he pointed at the graves.

"You tell me. What do you see?" Carl turned to look at the graves. There were only six graves, and one open hole. He guessed that was where Dale was going to get buried. A wooden cross was already stuck into the earth at its head. For a moment, he just stared at the graves, trying to figure out what it was that his dad wanted him to see.

"Why are those two flat, and those ones all, humped up?" Looking at his dad, he was pleased to see him smile. He'd got it right.

"You know Allen? These graves were dug for his daughter and wife."

"But I thought they died before they got here? So there wouldn't be any bodies to bury." His dad nodded.

"Exactly. These graves are just somewhere for Allen and his sons to go, so they have somewhere to mourn." He fell silent for a moment, his forehead creased deep in thought. Suddenly, Carl remembered something.

"But, you know what? Ben told me, that his mom died here, not outside." His dad turned to look at him, a sharp look on his face. Carl took a step back without thinking. "He _did_ though. But then Billy told him that he was being stupid." Carl started to feel very uncomfortable with the way his dad was looking at him. "I'm not lying!"

"I know you're not. Not about something like this." His dads voice was reassuring, and he put his hand on Carls shoulder. Carl relaxed, knowing that he wasn't in trouble. "And that means that either Ben or Billy was. So I need to know who was lying and why." He turned towards the gate of the graveyard. "Come on, let's go get some food and sleep." He started to walk to the gates, but Carl stayed still.

"Dad. Can we make a grave for Mom and Judith? We made graves for everyone else but there wasn't anytime for them." His dad stopped dead in his tracks, and made a small noise. It sounded like a cough or a choke. Carl wished he hadn't said anything, but carried on anyway. "It's just; it'd be nice if she was somewhere, rather than just dead."

It took his dad a while to reply that when the business with Dale was over they would, and when he did it was in a quiet voice, that was a little bit wobbly, the voice that Carl didn't like, because it made him feel sad. He wished he hadn't mentioned it now, but the fact was that unlike Sophie, who had forgotten about Carol, he thought about his mom everyday. He was glad that he had been so nice to her before she died, because then she died knowing how much he loved her. And he was glad that she had seen how much of a good older brother he would have been to his little sister. Although he wouldn't have been that good, as he was already forgetting what she looked like and what her name was. He had no problems with the last words he'd said to her, or how he'd acted towards her.

He just wanted somewhere to go to tell her that he missed her.


	15. Snooping

**I realised to get this story and Twosides to where they need to be, this needs ALOT more work. Please keep reviewing, all feedback welcome. I hope you enjoy! xoxo**

**Rick**

The house looked ordinary. It didn't stand out, look menacing or have an evil aura, it was just a house. Rick glanced around the street, checking if he was being watched. A woman and man came around the corner, arm in arm, taking an evening stroll. Rick smiled and nodded at them.

"Lovely night," the woman called to him.

"Yeap." He forced himself to sound casual. "Makes taking the rounds seem pleasant." Both the man and woman laughed.

"Taking care of us all are you? Doug sure picked a dedicated officer." The couple walked away and Rick made a show of walking in the opposite direction. Once he was sure that they were out of sight, he slowly made his way back to the house. He didn't know how he didn't hate these people for seeming to have forgotten about Dales death so soon. He guessed he just didn't think that their opinion was important. What did they know about the real world now? They hadn't been through what he and his friends had, they didn't understand how much harder it was to go through all that they had and then lose each other.

In short, they were nothing to him.

He looked around, shifting from foot to foot, starting to feel anxious about being caught. Where was he? He should have been here by now. He couldn't understand what-

"Rick?"

He jumped. Glenn had developed an unnerving habit of being able to creep up almost silently on people. Nevertheless, it was a skill that Rick wanted to use at that moment.

"What's the deal?" Glenn pulled his baseball cap over his eyes. "Why are we here, outside," he looked at the house. "Outside Allens house?" Rick didn't answer, just pointed at the little window at the foot of the house that led into the basement.

"I need you to get into there and have a snoop around. Tell me what you find." Glenn looked at the window and then back at Rick suspiciously.

"What do you think I'll find?" Rick looked at him approvingly. There was no mention of it being a crime to break and enter.

"I don't know. But, unless it's about to kill you, make as little noise as you can." Glenn knelt down by the window, and started to work away at the hinge. He stopped, and looked at Rick.

"You think that Allen's got a walker in here don't you?" Rick kept his expression blank. "Don't you? C'mon Rick, just give me the heads up." After a moments silence, Rick nodded. Glenn considered this for a moment, and then pulled out a knife. "I thought as much. You think that Dale was killed to feed it." Rick thought of Dales butchered body, the softest organs removed, and nodded again. Glenn sighed. Rick felt a stab of guilt.

"You don't have to do this. You've got Maggie and Sophie to think of." Glenn sat back on his heels, his head bent to one side for a moment.

"Rick, I'm not upset that I'm going into danger. I want to know what happened to Dale. I'm not mad that you didn't tell me exactly what's going on. I know we're all playing it close to the chest right now. I'm mad because you think I wouldn't do it because I'd be too scared. I know I'm not as strong as Daryl or T-Dog, or an amazing shot like Adela and Andrea, or smart like you, but I'd never let you guys down like that. I'll do whatever it takes to keep us safe." Rick nodded.

"I should have known that from the start Glenn. I'm sorry." Glenn gave a final tug and the window slid open. Lying flat on his stomach, he listened at the window. He gave Rick a grim look. "I can hear something…moving." Rick frowned.

"Don't go in if it's close. If we're right…" Glenn shook his head.

"No, it's coming from the opposite end of the basement." He shuffled up to the window and slipped through the window legs first. Rick paused, waiting for Glenn to make a sound.

"Rick!" Glenn whispered at the window, his hand reaching through the gap. "Get me out! Someone's coming down the stairs." Rick gripped his hand and pulled him through the window.

"What the hell is going on?" Uh oh. This Rick didn't need. He hauled Glenn out of the basement and turned to see Doug advancing on them, looking incensed.

"I should have known you'd do something like this. You couldn't do this the simple way, had to make things difficult." Ignoring Glenn, Doug squared up to Rick, his face right up to his. "You're just determined to make trouble aren't you? You can't just let things go."

"How about you?" Glenn reacted before Rick could speak. "There's a walker in the basement of that house and you either don't know or have allowed it. For a long time by the looks of her."

Doug reeled back. From the look on his face, this was very unpleasant, unwelcome, unexpected news.

"You're…you're lying." Rick shook his head.

"What happened to Allens wife?" Doug creased his forehead.

"She died here. Allen cremated her, but he has a grave to remember her by." Glen furrowed his brow.

"That's not what other people say. They say she died in the wilds." Doug shook his head.

"No. Allen and his children have been here almost since the start. She definitely died here. He burned her outside the walls of the town and scattered the ashes out there."

"And you saw this? You were there?" Doug slowly shook his head.

"But, you're wrong." For a moment, Rick saw a fleeting glimpse of an old defeated man, confused and scared. "There has to be a reasonable explanation."

"Oh yeah?" Rick walked up the stairs to the front door. "Then let's ask him who he has in his basement."


	16. Conformation

Allen didn't struggle. He didn't protest or argue. He just looked bemused and somewhat relieved. In Ricks books, that wasn't a good sign.

Doug took him to one side, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, comforting words in his ear. The look he threw at Rick told him in no certain tones that if he was wrong, that his head would roll.

The door was padlocked. Glenn pulled at the lock and frowned.

"The keys Allen." Rick kept his voice level, calm but full of authority, exactly the way he would if he was speaking to a highly unstable criminal. Allen handed them over. No resistance. He frowned and unlocked the door. He turned to Allen.

"If I go down there, what am I going to find?" Allen looked down at the floor. He shook his head. It was obvious that if he wanted the truth, he was going to have to go and find it himself. He gave the door a push.

The smell hit him immediately. He didn't know how Glenn had stood it. Whatever was down in the basement was dead.

Had been dead.

He saw Dougs face twist in disgust, then shock, and knew that the smell had reached him. His hand tightened on Allens shoulder, and his face set into a hard mask.

Rick ventured down the steps one by one. The lights weren't working as usual, and what little light from the moon penetrated the window that Glenn had scrambled through, didn't illuminate the basement, rather it created long distorted shadows up the wall, that moved and distracted him.

But the growling brought him back into focus.

The closer to the bottom of the stairs he got, the more of her he could see.

Her face was half eaten away, most of her left check eroded, her left eye gone. Her skin was the typical grey colour that he saw in people who had been walkers for a long time. She was chained to the wall with a collar around her neck, and the skin was worn away from where she had pulled at the collar. Blood and parts of animals were strewn on the floor around her, as if someone had cleaned up everywhere that wasn't in her reach. Rick looked at her for a moment.

She might have been middle aged when she died. She had a comfortable middle age spread look. Her hair, although dirty now, looked as if it would have been blonde, and cut short. Her clothes were-had been-sensible, practical. Now they were torn and covered in animal blood. Dales blood.

As he executed her, he heard a thump from upstairs, the sound of someone or something falling to the floor.


	17. Rescue

**It's coming together slowly but surely! The two stories will combine I promise! I think this may have been a bad idea from me, it's very tricky to do.**

**T-Dog**

When Glenn told them what had happened, T-Dog was glad he'd been kept in the dark. Hearing about the dead woman who had been kept in the basement of the house three houses away from him, fed on dead animals and his friend was far too close to being back in the prison, being forced to shoot the Governors daughter.

Rick and Doug had taken a shocked Allen to the cells for questioning, and the twins were with another family. T-Dog had been worried that Miao would want to take them in, but she had had no such desire. Apparently not many people in the community had. The general feeling was that there was something suspicious about the boys had living in the same house as a walker for at least a year and not saying anything.

As a result of Glenn and Ricks morbid discovery, Matthew was now being universally proclaimed innocent by the towns people, something that T-Dog and the rest had known all along. The towns folk were also whispering how they had always known that there was something odd about Allen, something that T-Dog found almost laughable. No-one wanted to admit that they could be deceived; they wanted to believe that the same rules applied as they had before the outbreak, that the good guys and bad guys were easy to spot. It wasn't until this moment that T-Dog saw how naive the 'locals' really were.

A few of the local men had offered to come out with him to find Matthew, but T-Dog had rejected them, wanting to stick with Craig and Adele, people Matthew would trust, that he himself trusted. He'd also ended up with Daryl insisting on accompanying them, insulting T-Dog in the process.

"Ya just as likely to end up lost yourself. Ya got a baby on th way, so Ima make sure ya get back to Miao in one piece. An stop ya makin' a run fur it." T-Dog had scowled at the multiple insults that were contained in one statement.

"I think I liked you better when you were drunk."

"I liked ya better too. I was too drunk ta worry about ya stupidity." Miao had started to laugh at the exchange.

"Nice to see the bro-mance is back on," she'd said, smiling as she stood up to get Daryl another glass of water. "Look after him, I need him for diaper changing," she'd said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You can't leave Harry again," T-Dog tried to reason. "Don't you think he needs you at the moment?"

"He needs his brother. An you, me n Adele are th best people to go get him. Leave the Paddy at home with him." Daryl remained stubborn, determined to go. In the end, it was Andrea who offered to look after Harry, who readily agreed, leaving Daryl free to go, and T-Dog exasperated. Relations between Daryl and Adele were still tense, especially after Adele had placed the picture of Georgie in his house. Add into the mix Daryls general (unwarranted) distain of Craig, and he was handling a volatile mix.

They left town early in the morning. Only Rick came to the gate to see them off.

"No scavenging. If you see anything of interest, make a note and we'll come back to it. Get in, get Matthew, get out." T-Dog nodded.

"What's going on with Allen?" Rick glanced at Daryl and then moved slightly closer to T-Dog, lowering his voice.

"He's still in the cell. Not talking. Doug doesn't know what to do with him." T-Dog noted the undertone of contempt in Ricks voice, for which he couldn't blame him. Doug had had a walker in his midst for however long, and not noticed. T-Dogs estimation of him as a leader had gone severely downhill, not that it had been very high to begin with. He opened the drivers side of the truck.

"Doug doesn't know what to do about anyone or anything," he muttered.

The drive to the town took the best part of an hour. He wondered how long it had taken Matthew to run to the town, what he had been thinking as he ran, whether he believed that T-Dog would make good on his promise and come back for him. He hoped that he knew he had been sincere.

His passengers were silent, and in Daryl and Adeles case, borderline hostile. Glancing in the rear view mirror, he observed their glances at each other. If looks could kill, there'd be two walkers in the back seat. He sighed.

"Something on ya mind there T-Dog?" Craig attempted to start up a conversation.

"Just wondering how long it'll take us to find Matthew." _If we find him_ he thought to himself.

"Ah, he's a smart kid. Ya man Daryl there taught him well. I wouldn't be surprised if we find him without havin' ta fire a shot." Adele chuckled softly.

"Or beating it." Daryl snorted, not quite as kindly.

"Too right. Ain't no water barrels in town." Craig smiled good naturedly.

"Ah, you don't know that do you? Could be a whole loada em in there. Imagine it, me savin' your lives through me expertise and powerful throw." The car didn't exactly rock with laughter, but the mood lightened slightly.

A few moments later, Daryl leant forward and pointed over T-Dogs shoulder at some trees.

"Pull over here. Stop in there."

"What? Why?"

"Where do ya think I was goin' all the times I walked out of th village. The towns prob'ly a ten minute walk from here. Maybe five minutes. I was kinda drunk." T-Dog stared over his shoulder at Daryl, back at the road and then back a Daryl.

"What the hell were you doing out here?" Daryl leaned back in the passenger's seat.

"Shootin' things." He shrugged. "Jus mad as hell. S quiet out here. Don't have ta talk ta people. Dunno." T-Dog pulled over into the shade and cover of the trees and turned off the engine. The four climbed out of the car, and pulled out their weapons.

"You still know how to shoot that?" Adele nodded at Daryls crossbow. He grunted and swung it onto his back.

"Well at least you're sober enough to use it," she muttered and strolled off towards down the road, Craig not far behind. T-Dog fell in step with Daryl and followed behind.

"You are…"

"I ain't drunk nothing since Matthew had ta run off." T-Dog nodded. He knew Daryl well enough to know that he didn't lie, he just refused to answer. He shrugged.

"You know I had to…"

"Yeah." They walked in silence for a moment, close to Adele and Craig, but not so close that they could hear them talking. After a while, T-Dog noticed something odd about Daryl. He wasn't walking with his usual confident swagger. His head was down and every now and then he shot a fugitive look from side to side. It was like he was looking for something that worried him.

"Daryl, are you sure you're ok?" When he didn't answer, T-Dog started to look around, looking for whatever it could be that was making Daryl so uneasy. He couldn't see anything, no walkers, no suspicious strangers, not even a rabid dog. He couldn't figure it out. He turned back to ask Daryl again, and realised he had stopped and was staring into the trees, his face frozen and unreadable.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Daryl ignored him, or didn't seem to hear him. T-Dog placed his hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly. "Daryl, there's nothing there." Daryl mumbled something. "Daryl, what are you looking at?"

"Nothing." Daryl seemed to shake himself out of his trance and started to walk towards the town. T-Dog squinted into the trees, but could see anything that was a cause for concern. He shrugged, and jogged to catch up the other three.

The town was indeed close to the trees, much closer than the ten minutes Daryl had estimated in his drunken rambles. When they came to the towns welcome sign, now smeared with blood and peppered with bullet holes, Daryl stopped them and pointed at the ground. A strange cross and arrow was carved into the ground. Daryl looked pleased.

"Matthew came this way. This is the mark we used wen we use to hunt outside the old town. If we separated. We taught him, me an…" His voice trailed off.

"Georgie." Adele's voice was quiet, but even. She glanced at Daryl out of the corner of her eye. "You need to start saying her name." Daryl ignored her.

"He'll have gone in this way. We need ta look for anythin' like this sign here. Or this." He drew a triangle in the dirt. "That means don't go this way. Fur any reason. This-" here a circle "-means stayed the night here. An' if it was more than one night, it'll have a number in it. A square means food or water. If we follow these, they should get us to him." T-Dog nodded.

"We'll stay in a four for a hour. If we don't find him by then, we'll try splitting into two groups. We need to cover as much ground as possible. If we don't find him by sundown, we come back here, sleep in the truck and regroup. Agreed?" The others nodded. Adele's face set and determined, Craig's a paler, greener shade, but with the same look of determination, and Daryl's unreadable. T-Dog turned to face the town.

"Keep your eyes open, and your finger on the trigger."


	18. Snatched

**Sorry for taking so long. I hope this was worth the wait. **

**Adele**

As soon as they stepped foot in the town, Adele knew something was happening. She didn't have any proof, she couldn't explain it, but she could feel it in her gut. And she trusted her gut. She could tell by the look on T-Dogs face that he felt it too, that he was uneasy and wanted to turn back. They walked for maybe ten minutes, looking for the markers that Daryl had mentioned, becoming increasingly paranoid as the silence wrapped itself around them.

"This is creepy." Craig finally spoke up. "Creepier than normal anyway." He looked at Adele for reassurance. "Where are all the dead uns?" Adele shrugged. Daryl and T-Dog had lagged behind slightly, examining a door, trying to determine if the scratch marks gorged into the door by dead fingernails concealed a vital clue to Matthews whereabouts.

"Maybe they've collected somewhere else. They tend to do that." Craig looked sick-sicker than he already did.

"So, we'll either not run into them…" Adele nodded.

"Or we'll run into all of them." Craig looked like he was about to faint. Adele wondered why on earth T-Dog had chosen him to accompany them, when he could have asked Morgan or even Glenn.

"Nothing there." T-Dog caught up to them, looking grim. "Well, that would have been too easy anyway." He nodded ahead. "Keep moving."

"Don't you think we should maybe look down some of these side alleys?" Adele nodded at the alleyways. "He might be hiding down there. T-Dog frowned, lost in thought for a moment.

"Lets, stick to looking for the markers. And then if that doesn't work, we'll try checking all the corners." He turned to Daryl. "Should we be leaving markers? In case he comes back this way?" There was no answer. "Hey Daryl." T-Dog gave Daryl a shove, shocking him back to life. "C'mon man, we need you with us, not away with whoever. I said should we be leaving markers?" Daryl shrugged.

"If he ain't here, he prob'ly ain't comin' back this way." He squinted up at the sun, seeming to judge the time. "Shouldn't we be splitin' up about now? Been longer than an hour." T-Dog stared at him, trying to figure him out. Finally he seemed to give up.

"Suppose so. Me and you can take the west, Adele," he pointed to the east. "You and Craig take the east. Got your watch?" Adele looked at the silver watch on her wrist, delicate and pretty, probably the most feminine thing she had now, taken from a dead walker. Whilst it still ticked, there was no telling if it was accurate anymore. "Wind it to twelve. When it gets to two, we meet back here. AT two. Not five minutes, or ten minutes after two, AT two. Got it?" Adele nodded, hardly hearing him. She wanted to go, do something. She'd locked herself away in a house, caught up in hate and grief, neither of which had done her any good. Despite what Craig was saying, she needed to do something. After setting her watch to twelve, she strode off to the east, Craig trotting behind her. Occasionally, he tried to say something to her, but she silenced him. If they were going to come across walkers, then she wanted to have the jump on them, not be distracted by idle chat, or have them made aware of their presence. Right now, she was just as keen to fight as she was to find Matthew.

It was the gun shots that stopped them in their tracks. After the first, there was a pause, and then three more shots in quick succession. Craig spun around, panic on his face, but Adele held her ground. The shots had come from somewhere ahead of them, not from West, where T-Dog and Daryl had gone. The men were fine, but there was someone else in the city. That, or Matthew had gotten himself into some bother. Either way, the walkers would now most likely be heading in the direction of the noise, away from them. She beckoned Craig to follow her, but he stood motionless. Frustrated, she turned and pulled over a large garbage bin, the kind that stood outside restaurants.

"Get in." Craig stared at her as if she had gone mad. She pointed at it again, feeling like she was communicating with a caveman. "You. Hide. In there. I go, find Matthew." Craig shook his head.

"No. I'll be ok, I just need…"

"In there. You're of no use to me." Adele regretted the words as soon as she had said them. Craigs face crumpled and he looked injured and small. "I'm sorry, but I can't keep an eye on you and on what may or may not be coming up. As long as you stay quiet, nothing will find you." Craig mumbled something under his breath. Adele ignored his protests. "Get in. Now." After a pause, Craig clambered in.

She knew he would hide.

When she was certain that he was safely concealed, and was satisfied that he wouldn't be following her in some misguided attempt to protect her, she moved on, towards where the gun shots had come from. That was the place she was most likely to find Matthew. It seemed as if he had had enough sense to be able to keep his head, although she couldn't think why he had only fired four shots. She hoped he wasn't running from something. She could track in the forest; that was easy. But to find a child in a city was trickier. That was a job for Daryl. Or Georgie. She frowned slightly and pressed on.

There was now a faint rumbling in the air. It was unmistakably the noise of a large crowd of undead. Or should she call it a herd? What did it matter. They were dead. Unconsciously, she started to crouch, moving quickly and quietly through the streets. Here, a left turn, then straight on, every now and then pausing to confirm that she was moving towards the source of the noise. It was definitely getting louder. She stopped and took in a deep breath. Wondering around with Georgie for the first few hellish months of the outbreak had taught them both to take their time, not to burst around the corner without being prepared. She checked the magazine of her shot gun, checked in the deep pockets of the coat she had taken from the house she resided in at the town that she had spare bullets, felt the sharp edge of the knife at her hip. If there was anything to deal with, she was prepared.

The noise was so loud it was disorientating. She had to stop to re-establish where it was coming from, making sure that she wasn't getting turned around. She was surprised at how calm she was, how focused, how unafraid. Billy had always said that fear was one of the things that kept you alive, that fear of dying made you sharp. Adele wondered if the absence of fear was an acceptance that she was going to die. Or just that she accepted that everyone around her would eventually die. She shook her head, and looked around the corner.

Walkers. How many she couldn't say, but there had to be hundreds. They were all clustered around a building, shuffling into it. 'There must be people inside,' she thought. There was nothing she could do for them now. She looked down the street. Was it worth trying to sneak past the hoard, or should she double back and go the long way around. She wanted to fight, but she knew the difference between a fair fight to get the rage out of her system and suicide. She wasn't afraid to die, but she wasn't going to seek it out. She stood for a moment, weighing up her options and then made up her mind. Creeping out from the alley, she started to make her way past the walkers, ducking behind cars, tip toeing over rubbish and debris.

A screech of rubber stopped her in her tracks. Looking up, she saw a truck sped out of the alley way across from where she was. Walkers spun around, distracted from moving into the building staring at the truck reaching out for it, turning, turning and seeing her.

"Oh shit."

No point in running, they would only follow her. Better to shoot some now. If she left some corpses in the street, it would slow some down, leaving her with enough time to put a decent amount of distance between her and them. Maybe she could hold up in a building.

She grounded herself in between a gap between two cars, so that the walkers would come straight for her, forcing themselves through a bottle neck, rather than figuring out it would easier to come around the cars and block her escape route. She promised herself that she would only use three magazines and then she needed to run. Shot, after shot rang out, and the dead fell to the floor. Throwing her last magazine into her pocket, she started to move.

"Adele!" She turned in shock. Craig was standing there, a gun in hand, in the middle of the road. He started to shoot blindly into the herd, drawing their attention away from her to him. Her heart stopped briefly.

"Craig! She forgot her plan, and the fear that she had thought she had left behind, suddenly hit her like a brick. She ran towards Craig, dodging and ducking the clutches of the dead, waving at him to run. For some reason, he wasn't moving, just pointing and shooting. "Run you moron, run!" She kept waving at him, motioning for him to run. But all he seemed able to do was stare in horror at something behind her.

She was shouting at him yet again to run, when she felt hands grab her from behind and jerk her backwards. She tried to twist her body, to reach for her knife, but they had a grip on her arms and were pinning her down. The world spun on its head, and her body hit the ground as her head hit metal.

Metal? She twisted her head from side to side and saw with some confusion that she was in a car. The world lurched to the side, and she heard the thuds of walker bodies as they bounced off the car. She put her hand to her head, watching the stars dance before her head. A voice spoke her name, a strangely familiar voice. She tried to place it, but the thudding pain was too much. She closed her eyes and let the darkness take over.

**I think I'm going to end this story here. I'll sort out the other story and go back to writing one at a time, this was way too confusing for me!**


	19. 19

**Craig**

"Adele!" Craigs voice was high and panicked. He felt his limbs freeze as he watched her being pulled into the truck and watched it speed away. He started to run towards it, but realised that the walkers were coming for him. For a split second he stood, indecisive. He wanted to run after her, save her from the abductors, but he also knew that he would simply be running into a mass of the undead. He started to walk backwards getting ready to sprint away.

Then the truck swerved and turned in the street, coming straight towards him. He could see a tall black man standing in the back shouting at him, waving at him. Walkers were being ploughed down around and in front of the truck. The man was gesturing at him, waving at him. Craig willed himself to move, but his legs weren't co-operating. He didn't know what to do. Were these people trying to save him? Had they tried to save Adele, and now they were coming to take him away from danger too? Or was it another trap like the hospital. His brain couldn't process the information. The next piece he received made even less sense.

Georgies head popped out of the passengers side window. Georgie, who had been stabbed by Daryl Dixons brother, the brother of the man who loved her. Georgie whose body they had never found, who they had created a grave for. And there was her head. Her face was fuller, covered in blood, but it was her. And it was her voice that was screaming at him, and her hands reaching for him.

He could feel his legs wanting to buckle, but that was the only feeling. Shock and disbelief had made him numb. He just about managed to jump out of the way of the truck, and felt the tall black mans hand clasp his and lift him into the back of the truck. Then the driver, whoever he was, revved the engine and they sped away, leaving the monsters behind.

Once they were in a street clear of any walkers, Georgie opened the door of the still moving truck and pulled herself into the back. If Craig had been numb before, this feat made all the feeling rush back into his brain. He scrambled across the cold metal and with one arm, grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her into a massive bear hug. Only when he felt the solid weight of her in his arms could he believe he was real. When he felt her body start to shake, he burst into tears. He pushed her away at arms length and took her in.

"I don't…how did you…Georgie." He took the corner of his shirt and started to wipe her face, attempting to clear the blood away. She shook her head and shrugged. She seemed exhausted.

"I don't know how to tell you…I don't know where to begin. Can we just…lets get out of here and when we get back I can focus on explaining everything." The black man nodded.

"We need to get you back to Matthew." Craig drew a sudden intake of breath.

"Matthew? You found him? We came to find him. Me and Adele and…T-Dog! Daryl! Georgie, Daryls here. We have to find him and T-Dog. They'll be looking for me and Adele." Georgies whole body stiffened. She turned to the large black man. It was clear he was in charge and what he said would go.

He didn't even blink. He pulled out a radio and turned it on.

"Michonne. Bella. Anyone there?" Immediately, a womans voice responded.

"Dayo, where are you? Is everyone ok? Matthew is getting worried and Sayid is losing blood."

"We lost Jacci. Walkers grabbed her. There was nothing we could do. But we found people from Georgies old group. Put Matthew on the radio." He held the radio out to Craig. "Tell him you're ok and what we're going to do."

"What are we going to do?" Craig held the radio in his hand.

"Get your friends of course." The man leaned over Craig and Georgie and banged on the window. "Stop here Zxander. We'll be ok for a while." The truck slowed to a halt, and he jumped out of the truck. The driver door opened, and a another tall, muscular man jumped out. This man was blonde, with a slight tan. His face almost had a natural arrogance which in normal circumstances would have made Craig take an instance dislike to him, had he not just saved his life, Adeles life and reunited them with Georgie. Both men started to discuss their next moves, in voices loud enough for Craig to hear their every word. They had nothing to hide.

"Hello?" Matthews voice was crackling over the radio. Craig was alarmed at how weak it sounded.

"Hey there. How's it cracking kiddo, we've been looking for ya. Ya haven't made it easy, eh? Daryl's goin on about how ya got all these signs and did ya use any of em?" Craig realised he was babbling, and paused for a moment. "Matthew, Georgies here with us. Can ya believe that. Alive an well. Looks like she's been better off than th rest of us back in the town eh?" Matthew sighed on the other end of the radio, and Craig realised he had been waiting for conformation that Georgie still lived.

"Listen. Georgie an Adele an me, we're ok. But T-Dog and Daryl are still out there. So we're goin' out to get em, and then your man Zxander an his friend are going to bring us all back. Don't cha worry about us. We won't be long." He looked at his watch. 1:45. "I promise we'll all be back soon. Here's Georgie." He passed the radio to her and she grasped it with both hands.

"Matthew? Are you ok?" She listened intently as Matthew whispered something into the radio. "Matthew, it's only walkers we're up against. Nothing…No those people are on the other side of the city now. We won't run into them. You ok? Sayid ok? Good. Be good for Bella and Michonne. I will. I promise. See you soon." She turned the radio off, and stared at it for a moment. Then she turned to Craig.

"I fucking love that boy. I never realised until I saw him today." She leant against the truck window and looked into the driver pit, down on Adele. "You know, I hate babies and toddlers and I've never wanted kids. But Sophie…I'd kill for Sophie. I'd lay down in the road and let walkers eat me if it gave her even a 1% better chance of survival. I wouldn't even think about it. Because she's like a daughter now." She turned her attention back to Craig. "But it's not just her. I'd kill someone if they threatened you. It's strange." She smiled at him. "Sorry, did that freak you out?"

"No." Craig shook his head, realising he'd been starting. "I'm just…you're alive." He wanted to explain more, but was interrupted by Zxander and the other man.

"We need to start forming a plan." The black man leant on the truck side. "We're thinking you give us a location and time to meet these two men. I'll drive this girl-"

"Adele." Georgie interrupted him.

"Yeah, and you back to town. She's hit on the head. I'd rather get her to Jack to check over sooner rather than later. But, I don't want her to wake up and freak out, so you," here he pointed at Craig, "can come with. Zxander and Georgie will wait for the other two. I'm sure once they see Georgie, they'll know Zxander is friendly." Craig opened his mouth to protest, but realised that the plan made perfect sense. Instead he simply nodded.

"Here's what you need to know."


	20. Waking Dream

**Daryl**

They had said they would meet at two. It was now 2:05. T-Dog was saying not to panic, but Daryl was feeling twitchy. He didn't know why. He didn't care too much about the Paddy, and he was sure that Adele was more than capable of taking on a few walkers. But something seemed…he didn't know how to describe it. He felt like something was about to happen.

He'd had this feeling all day. He'd kept thinking he saw something, or heard something, even when he knew there was nothing there. His senses usually didn't throw him like this. He wondered if it was linked to the beer and whiskey he'd been downing, or the sudden absence. Since he'd stopped the binge drinking, he was having to deal with a lot of thoughts. Georgie's death had brought up memories of his family dying, of his mother cradling his sister in her arms as she snarled and clawed at her face. Memories of Merle, the only family he'd had left, first saving his life, then making it miserable until T-Dog had chained him to a pipe on a roof. There were too many thoughts in his head, and he had no idea how to process them.

He was brought back to reality by T-Dog prodding him.

"You hear that?" He nodded down the street. "It's a car." He pulled out his gun, checked the magazine and nodded at Daryl. Daryl pulled the string tight on his crossbow and brought it to his shoulder. They moved themselves around the back of the car they'd been sat on and waited.

A truck rumbled onto the street. It was loud and rattling, and Daryl cursed it.

"Goddamit." T-Dog seemed to agree with him. "If you're going to hotwire a truck, you choose one that doesn't look like it's about to fall apart." Daryl could see what he was talking about. The truck was battered, and covered in blood and other bodily fluids. The windscreen was cracked and it was impossible to see through. Anyone could be driving.

The truck stopped a few feet away from the car they were hiding behind. Daryl could see the driver. It wasn't Craig or Adele, but a blonde man. He was looking away from them, talking to a companion.

"Who the hell do you think this is?" T-Dog murmured to Daryl. Daryl shrugged his shoulders and twisted his body so that his arrow was pointed at the mans skull. If he turned nasty, Daryl could react faster than he could.

The man seemed to reach a conclusion with the person next to him, and opened the door. As soon as he stepped onto the street, Daryl knew that if it came to a hand to hand fight, even if he and T-Dog took him at the same time, it would be a very close call. The man was tall, broad shouldered, muscular and most importantly well fed. Wherever he was living, they were better organised than the town they had come from. The man looked around and then did something that made both T-Dog and Daryl start.

"Daryl? T-Dog?" Both men stared at each other. How did he know their names? The man stopped and leant back into the truck. The passenger door opened and the second person stepped out of the truck.

Daryl blinked. He shook his head. He tried to make sense of the situation. He stepped back from the car and shook his head again. There was no reasonable explanation for what he was seeing. He was dreaming again. Any minute now he would wake up, and be alone in that godforsaken house. She called his name. She called for T-Dog. She put her hands to her head and looked at the taller man. He saw, rather than heard her form the words: They should be here. He closed his eyes and waited for her to go away, to stop torturing him.

"T-Dog!" Her voice sounded relieved, happy, and he opened his eyes. T-Dog was walking towards her and she had leapt into his arms. He'd lifted her off the ground and was hugging her, pushing her away at arms length, and then hugging her again. The other man was watching from the truck, a smile on his face. At last, she pushed T-Dog away and said something.

The blood was rushing in his ears. He walked forward, feeling more like he was in a dream then when he had been dreaming. She turned to look at him, standing perfectly still. The more he looked at her, the more he was sure this was real. It was impossible, and yet it was real. In his dreams, she looked exactly the same. Underweight, short hair just below her cheeks. But now, her hair was longer, almost to her shoulders. She had put on weight, looking healthy, as if she had had decent meals for weeks, and her face was bruised and battered. This had to be real. He didn't know what he would do if it wasn't .

He reached out a hand to touch her face. As soon as his hand made contact with her face, she threw herself at him, and kissed him. She was holding onto him as if she was scared he would escape and pressing her body against him, to get as close as she could. He put his hands on her face and pushed her away to take her in.

Georgies bruised face was streaked with tears. Her front tooth was still chipped, and her eyes were red. She was real and she was alive. She wasn't a dream, she wasn't a hallucination. She hadn't been killed by his brother, she hadn't bled to death and then returned as a walker. She was alive and she was in front of him. She pulled him back to her and whispered in his ear.

"I knew I'd find you. Bloody hick."

For the first time, since the walkers had started to come alive, since he was 12 and his beloved Grandpop had died, Daryl Dixon allowed himself to cry


	21. Confessional

**Sophie**

The church door was huge. It towered over her, much like the one had done at home, the one her real mother and father use to go to. Sophie hadn't liked that church, or the priest. Like many adults in her life, the priest acted like he knew her father was a bad man, but he didn't do anything about him. Sophie thought this was worse than regular adults ignoring it, the priest was supposed to be a good man. This town's priest seemed different though. No, he wasn't a priest. Maggie had said that he was a preacher. She didn't understand what the difference was, but he was nicer than the other priest. For starters, he was a lot younger than the man in the church she use to go to, and he didn't let people call him father, but Gabriel. He smiled a lot more, and when people spoke to him, he really listened, rather than pretended to and then run away as fast as he could. The thing that really made her want to talk to him though, was that when Rick and Glenn had found out what Ben and Billys dad had done, he was the only person in the town that had looked angry, rather than shocked. She wasn't sure why it made her trust him, but she wanted to talk to him.

She opened the church door and gasped. The inside of the church looked beautiful. Candles were everywhere, lighting up dark corners and spreading a warm glow. There was a small statue of the Virgin Mary and the baby Jesus, but unlike the cold, angry statues in her old church, the pair looked loving and happy.

"Can I help you child?" Gabriel's voice echoed through the chapel. This was another reason that Sophie felt drawn to him: whenever he spoke, he sounded like he was singing. She clasped her hands behind her back and thought for a moment. Gabriel came to her side and stood next to her.

"It's a lovely statue isn't it? Lucky it was already here when I came to the town. So much less depressing than the crucifix." Sophie felt a bit shocked. She wasn't sure if men from the church were supposed to say bad things about the church.

"The crucifix is important," she managed.

"I agree. But it's also a symbol of death to most people. In these times, it's hard to think about the rebirth of Christ as a positive thing, not with all the monsters walking the land. I prefer to present the birth of Christ for now. Although it's not reaching everyone." Sophie felt a knot of guilt in her stomach. She hadn't been to church here more than once, with Maggie.

"Maggie wants to come to church more, but Glenn says that God abandoned us a long time ago…" she started, but Gabriel cut her off.

"Gracious child, I didn't mean you! I understand that times have been hard for you and your family." Gabriel paused for a moment, before shaking his head. "Never mind." He turned his head, and noticed a few candles that had flickered out. "How can I help you anyway Sophie? It is Sophie isn't it?"

"Yeah." Sophie picked up a candle and carefully started to light the candles with Gabriel. "I wanted to ask you something. I can't ask anyone else."

Gabriel nodded. Sophie glanced out at him out of the corner of her eye. "Don't you want to know _WHY _I can't tell anyone else? Or why I'm telling you." Gabriel sat on one of the wooden pews, clasping his hands.

"Well, I think I can guess. You want to tell me, because I'm a stranger and it's sometimes easier to tell someone who doesn't know you than someone who does. And I think you feel you can't tell anyone else because you think what you did…was really bad. And you hope that I can tell you it wasn't. Because I'm a preacher."

Sophie slid into the pew next to him.

"Did God tell you that?" Gabriel laughed.

"You're not the first person to come to me with a confession. And I'll tell you what I told all of them. The laws of God and man were not made with the dead walking in mind. And things that we know were wrong before are not always going to be wrong now. The laws are greyer now than they ever were. You need to look into your heart and decide if what you did warrants forgiveness. And if you feel it does, I will do my best for you."

Sophie shuffled closer to him and looked around before speaking. "I killed someone." She shrank back, waiting for his reaction. Gabriel didn't even blink.

"A dead person, or a living person?"

"A living person." The words felt like they were being dragged out of her by force. She'd always been told confession was meant to make you feel better, but she was more scared about what she had done now, then ever. Gabriel was very quiet and still, and for a moment, the only sound in the church was the wind outside of the church. When he didn't say anything she started to talk. But not about shooting Merle. She talked about Georgie. About how the first time she had met her, had been the first time she had saved her life. About how she had taught her how to be safe and resourceful in this new world, how she had adopted her after her mother's death and let her call her mum. About how she had loved her, needed her, helped her and how she missed her. As she spoke, she realised that she hadn't been able to say this to anyone. That no one seemed to want to talk about the people who had died, and that she really wanted to talk about them.

As she got to the part about Georgies death, she started to trail off, unsure of what to say. Gabriel hadn't said a word. She looked down at her hands and tried to think.

"This person you killed, did they hurt Georgie?" Sophie nodded.

"Not just Georgie. They were beating up T-Dog, and they were going to kill him next."

"I see." Gabriel leant back and seemed deep in thought for a moment. They passed the next few moments in silence, Gabriel seemingly struggling internally with something. Finally he turned to her and spoke.

"You know what you did was a sin?"

"I know…I know killing people is wrong." Sophie's insides twisted. She had though he would understand. "But Merle killed other people first and he was going to kill T-Dog. And…" another thought struck her. "…and he was RACIST. He called T-Dog the N word all the time." Gabriels expression didn't change he just studied her carefully.

"How do you feel about what you did?" Sophie considered her response carefully. She didn't see the point in lying to him, not when he knew so much already.

"Well…I do feel bad that I killed someone. It wasn't as easy as killing the dead ones. I have bad dreams about it sometimes and I feel sick when I think about it. I don't like looking at guns or my bow and arrow anymore." Gabriel nodded.

"But I don't feel bad that I killed _him_. Adele and Rick and the others have killed bad people too, but they're not bad people themselves. They do it because they want us to be safe. I killed Merle because I wanted to be safe. And because he killed Georgie and I hated him for it. So…I feel bad, but I don't. Does that make sense?"

"You…killed Merle?" The blood ran cold in Sophies veins. Both she and Gabriel twisted around in their seats to see Maggie stood in the door of the church. She was staring at Sophie with fear and something else, another emotion that Sophie didn't recognise, on her face. Gabriel stood, his hands in front of him in an attempt to calm her.

"Yes, she did. But I've listened to her story and it wasn't in cold blood. The facts are that this Merle sounds like he was an evil man and Sophie was…" But he didn't get any further. With one last appalled look at Sophie, Maggie whirled around and strode out of the church. Gabriel looked at Sophie and placed a hand on her shoulder. Sophie barely felt it. She was numb.

"I'll go speak to her. She'll understand if I explain."

And then, just like her mother, Georgie and Maggie, he left, leaving Sophie alone.


End file.
